


Faded Heart

by jellopunch



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Language, Mental Health Issues, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-07-07 22:05:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 49,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15917187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellopunch/pseuds/jellopunch
Summary: After the revival of the nearby farm, the atmosphere in the town changed, everyone is eager for the addition. The arrival is marked by a noted change in everyone's mood, his own included.Follows the rough timeline and dialogue set up by the game itself, but takes liberties in adding extra scenes and character development, specifically for Shane's personal friendship/romance.





	1. Cauliflower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we are. It was inevitable this was going to happen to be honest. I'll do my best to post often, I at least have the first few chapters written so if you'll bear with me here it'll be awesome.

It was nearly a complete week after the revival of the Abernathy farm that Shane actually got to see the girl responsible. There was something funny in the way she walked into the saloon 10 minutes before closing, Shane peeking over his shoulder as he heard the door open. The bright red boots looked like they were straight out of a window shop in the city, her hair belonged on the cover of a magazine, and her demeanor was entirely too out of place. Not to mention that she was covered in dirt.

“I’ll take whatever food you have left,” she said, walking past him and slamming down a few coins onto the bar.

Gus took them and chatted amicably as he produced two loaves of bread and a salad. “This is all we have right now, but it should do you well.”

She thanked him and quickly broke off a piece of the bread and stuffed it into her mouth before looking around and noticing Shane still staring at her. “Can I help you?” she asked, voice irate and tired.

He scoffed and turned around, leaving the bar behind for the crisp evening air and stumbled home. One beer before bed quickly turned into four and he passed out unceremoniously on top of his comforter. It was even more uncomfortable when he woke up with a pounding head and gut full of self-loathing, wishing he had the self control to even go to sleep without drinking himself into oblivion every night.

A forced quick shower the next morning and he was dressed for work, eyes stinging and back hurting, but he was alive nonetheless, which seemed to be the only qualification he had for his job. Tall enough to reach all the shelves and desperate enough to do it; he was the perfect candidate for dead-end shelf stocker. At least he wasn’t too useless to do even this.

Then, after work, the bar again. Like clockwork: wake up, work, drink, sleep. It wasn’t always that exact order, but his life followed it pretty closely. Nights at the bar sometimes got to be too bad to stand, and he took to standing at the dock or bluffs, imagining how cold the water would be if he jumped in. Maybe the shock would take him, or he’d hit his head on something and the job would be done for him. As good of a plan as drinking himself to death was, it was a long one and he’d been thinking about more immediate solutions as of late.

Some nights, Emily was the only person to speak to him. Either to ask how he was doing, what he wanted in life, or some other obscure question that only Emily would think to ask. Though he’d never say it out loud, her appreciation for his life helped somewhat. It at least made adding to the drive to jump harder. Her, Jas, and Marnie were all he’d had going for him for the past three years.

Other nights, however, the new girl came in. Sometimes she spoke to him, other times not. It was already April by the time he actually learned her name, and it was in one of the oddest ways he could’ve imagined.

She walked into the bar soaked to the bone, a dirty pack and sword strapped to her, looked around and greeted Marnie. Mayor Lewis had yet to walk in, so his aunt was still receptive to speaking to anyone else. They were just out of earshot, but he watched as the farmer reached into her pack and produced a shining rock and handed it to Marnie. She excitedly hugged the farmer and thanked her. Lewis then walked in and his aunt thanked her again before excusing herself to spend the rest of the night with him. Shane made a face and took another drink, wondering if they’d be finished by the time he got home or if he’d have to listen to them while he futilely tried to sleep again.

Nearing the bottom of his mug, he was about to turn and order another from Emily but she was already approaching him with a full glass.

“What’s this for?” he asked.

“Val bought a round for the bar.” She placed the mug on the bar and smiled at him, expression genuine. “She said her first green bean harvest has been huge.”

 _Don’t care._ “Hey, free beer is free beer.” He took it and had a drink. Free beer even tasted better, he would swear by it.

Everyone in the bar took turns thanking her save him, preferring to just be left alone in his corner as he handed his paycheck over to Gus pint by pint. Eventually, though, it was apparently his turn to speak.

She was standing in front of him, raspy voice giving him a frank hello. _What was her name?_ he thought, panicking a little at having already forgotten. Looking at her face, it was hard to remember. But her brown eyes were expectant, thin eyebrow arched when he didn't respond right away.

“Hey.” He cleared his throat, actually feeling genuinely grateful. Drinking always did loosen him up more than he liked to admit. “I’m grateful for the beer. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome… Shane? I think that’s what Marnie said your name was.”

 _She doesn’t even know your name, you fucking idiot. Why’d you care about remembering hers?_ “Yeah, it’s Shane,” he said recalling how different she seemed now than she did a month before.

“Good, I’d hate to call you the wrong thing.” She didn’t stick out her hand like he half-expected her to, just ran one hand along the belt across her chest and slid another one into her bag, producing a blue gem. An aquamarine, he knew, having seen many of them in Emily’s home the few times he’d visited to help her with something.

Farm girl tapped it gently against the counter and waved Emily over. She handed it to her, getting a hug over the bar before leaving. Shane looked at his friend as she examined the blue rock, gently polishing its surface. He gestured to get her attention.

“What’s her name again?” he asked, not entirely sure why he bothered to care.

“Everyone just calls her Val,” Emily said simply before pocketing the stone and looking at his nearly empty mug. “You need another?”

He nodded, finishing the mug and handing it to her. “At least.”

At the end of the night, after his aunt and Lewis left together and nearly everyone else had cleared out, Gus forced him to leave so he could close. Grumbling but accepting, Shane started the bleary trek home, knowing he overdid it this time. Fuck, he’d be lucky to make it home tonight.

The ranch came into view, but he veered towards the lake, collapsing onto his knees for a second before falling over completely. It took his entire being to force himself to roll over so he didn’t choke to death on mud, but he managed it, slightly disappointed he had.

It was freezing by the lake, he knew, but he was far too drunk to care even about that. The only thought he really had was worry at Jas finding him in the morning on her way to school but he remembered it was a Friday. _Thank god for weekends,_ he thought, letting his eyes open and stare at the starry sky. One thing this place had on the city were the stars, at least. They were so much more numerous than he'd remembered, looking like they'd multiplied since his summers here as a child. Made the walks of shame a little more scenic. He could do without the bugs constantly chattering, though.

Feebly, he figured he should get up, either to stumble towards the lake or back home, but his limbs had ceased to work. Bubbling, thick self-hatred welled up and he groaned, angry at himself for turning into a worthless drunk, too blasted to even end himself the right way. The thoughts and anxiety were endless, the only solace he had knowing he was going to pass out eventually, too drunk to sustain even the most pathetic alcohol-fueled hate session.

Shane woke up too early the next morning to be healthy, back aching terribly from a rock stabbing him in the spine where he’d fallen the night before. He peered around and sat up while trying to focus his vision. The only consolation was that no one was awake this early to see him embarrassing himself in the dirt. Well save the farm girl that was for _some reason_ walking towards the pier at-

“What fucking time is it,” he mumbled, fumbling in his pocket for his phone. The screen flashed a bleary 7:37.

He put his phone away and squinted at her through the early light. She was carrying a fishing rod and a bucket. A few frogs were gently croaking, the sound making Shane’s headache worse and he groaned, rubbing his hands into his eyes. _Stupid idiot, couldn’t even make it back your own bed._

He stood up and started shuffling home, back hurting and legs stiff. He was sure the girl was watching him but she never said a word. Shane just caught her staring at him out of the corner of his eye as he finally made it back to Marnie’s farm, blessedly before any of his family was awake it seemed. His bed had never seemed more inviting, and he managed to actually fall asleep when he slumped into it.

It was past noon by the time he awoke, hating himself for sleeping so late and feeling useless. The panic that he’d already lost nearly half of his weekend crushed down on him, hating the way he wasted his already precious time off of work. It made him need a beer, which turned into a pack, then half a case and he was out before 10pm, waking up on Sunday to the same panic and awful feeling in his guts, passing it much the same way until it was 7:30 and time to get ready for work again. In the shower, trying to rub the hangover out of his eyes, he realized he hadn’t said a word since waking up in the grass on Saturday, let alone seen another person. Marnie didn’t really bother him when he was in his room anymore, and Jas nearly actively avoided him. He found himself wishing he’d just slip in the shower and bust his head open one of these days.

But he got out, got dressed, and left. The air was still cold enough to wake him up a little bit, but by the time it was nearly 9 he was sweating from the walk. In the back of his mind his brain played memories of when he was varsity in gridball and could run a field with ease. Now he was some nearly-middle aged, washed up stock boy who broke out into a sweat over a walk.

 _Maybe a shelf will crush me,_ he caught himself thinking as he tied his apron on. _A can of peas to the skull is one hell of a way to go out._

Work went as well was work could and soon enough he was through three pints at the Stardrop before he finally started to feel even a little human. The burn and haze were a comfort, and while he found himself inexplicably lonely, he didn’t bother speaking to anyone save the occasional word with Emily. No one would bother to care anyway if he said anything, and the few times he even mentioned to Emily an inkling of how he was feeling, she looked too concerned for him to handle. So he’d stopped, though he could see she still _knew_.

Seven pints down and he ordered a shot, unable to slowly drink himself into a haze this time and wanting something just a little faster. Emily poured it, then another as soon as he knocked the first one back. That one went too and as he was about to tap for another when the saloon doors opened and the farm girl walked in. Dirty face, ripped jacket with a patch, and a stained set of pink coveralls.

“Evening,” she said, sitting at a barstool three seats away.

He didn’t answer, just took the shot that Emily poured while she greeted her back. Farm girl didn’t seem deterred.

She pulled a clear quartz out of her bag and handed it to Emily. Em pocketed it and thanked her profusely before giving her what was left over from dinner that day. Dinner for a rock; if he could manage to get them to accept his garbage for beer he’d really be set.

He got a fourth shot and this one threatened to come right back up, and he figured he was done for the night. The test would be if he could stand or not, and as he was about to get up to check or embarrass himself, farm girl actually got up and offered him something.

It was a little tub of salmon berries, clearly fresh. He looked at it, confused and bleary, before he took it and shook it, as if that would help discern her motives. He looked at her questioningly and felt like an idiot.

She shrugged. “I asked Marnie about you when I was buying chickens the other day. She mentioned you liked fruit.”

His ears burned at hearing he’d been discussed, and now Marnie no doubt knew about him coming home on Saturday having slept outside. It soured the present, but he found himself still looking forward to eating them. “I do. Thanks.”

She nodded and picked up the leftover spaghetti Emily had given her and left, waving to Gus as she did it. Shane just looked at the container before blinking and getting up. Oh, he was definitely drunk enough now, and had trouble maintaining balance as he paid Gus and stumbled out with the container clutched in both hands, afraid of dropping it. Shuffling home, he picked at the berries as he went, noting they weren’t the best tasting, but he liked the idea that they were an active gift, then berated himself for being so fucking lonely. At home, he tossed the empty container next to his bed and promptly passed out into a sweaty, difficult sleep.

Nearly every day continued like that, ticking like clockwork. Work, bar, sleep, then do it all again the next day. Somehow, most days the new girl tended to worm her way in to bother him. Still looking out of place, still wandering in with gifts for a couple of frequents at the bar, still with her odd assortment of adventure gear, though some days that was missing.

The more she bothered to speak to him, the more he bothered to actually acknowledge her. It was after finally two weeks of receiving her greetings of mixed enthusiasm that he actually retained what she looked like. She dressed like how someone who _thought_ a farmer should dress, with printed overalls and heavy boots. Her tone was always blunt, and of what little he actually heard her say, none of it seemed particularly frivolous; there was nothing extra. It felt obsessive to categorize her like this and he could just add the self-inflicted embarrassment to his growing list of grievances with himself, but if he spent time organizing the one new thing he’d seen in nearly four years he could spend just a little bit less with his own thoughts. On that front, every little bit helped.

So he continued, accepting a few more gifts from her. She gave him a small, irregularly shaped ruby and he noticed her eyes were a warm brown. A little bag of strawberries, and her short hair was a deep chestnut color, brushing against the tops of her shoulders. A cauliflower that turned out to be the only fresh vegetable he’d eaten in months, he’d realize with some morbid mild concern for his own health, and he remembered seeing an odd scar under her right collarbone.

It _was_ obsessive, just another thing he could berate himself over when he failed to sleep at night, but if he was being honest at least a shake up in that made it a little more bearable. He dwelled on everything, not just her, but it felt wrong to start counting the times she attempted to talk to him. Honestly, he was lonely enough for it to work, his mood defrosting just the slightest in the face of her persistent interaction.

And soon it was his birthday, just after the beginning of May. Another year of doing nothing with himself and hating that fact. The days had all passed with little consequence, his primary human interactions either being ordering a beer from Emily or rebuking Val’s attempts at talking. It was depressing to think about, and as little as he tried to think about it, he was forced to like he was his own worst enemy and he wanted himself to suffer as much as possible.

Thirty-one years old with a goddaughter that just seemed sad half the time she was around him, a dead-end job that he hated, and barely any savings because he drank it all. No prospects, no control, no point.

Through the day he caught himself thinking just a bit more about the cliffs, or puddles in the stock room, or the grip tape on the bottom of his shower. In infuriated him and terrified him, the desire to die marred by his lack of conviction to make it happen. He really was every last terrible thing he said to himself at night and then some, some kind of pathetic, lazy idiot who was too much of a coward to do it himself so he wished something would do the work for him.

The bar after work wasn’t even a consolation, it was just a reminder of his failures. Falling out of shape, neglecting college, making excuse after excuse about his behavior until he just stopped caring and kept drinking. At this point, the only solid thing keeping him around was knowing how heartbroken Jas would be if he died, but it would be for the best. One of these days, he’d make the right choice and finally stop being a burden to his family.

It only took three beers to reach this conclusion, and two more shots just made it more solid. After a third, he hoped he’d get the courage finally, but it didn’t come. Maybe a fourth would do it.

He started nursing a new beer and it was nearly half gone by the time Val wandered into the bar for the night. He didn’t bother to look at her, too far in his own head to notice more than that she was there and she’d greeted him. Not answering, but still looking, he saw her huff and go to the front of bar, expecting that to be the end of it. He looked back down at his mug and took a drink, nearly finishing it.

Then, she was standing beside his stool, and he looked up to see her watching him with a bloody mary in her hands. He didn’t say anything.

“Here,” she said after a moment, fishing in her bag and coming out with a box of frozen pepper poppers. He didn’t take it and after a moment of standing there dumbly, she wiggled it a little. “I heard it was your birthday and I couldn’t fit them in my freezer. They’re on me.”

Looking at her incredulously, he took the box and half expected her to slap it out of his hands. “Thank you,” was all he said, a tilt of confusion in the words.

She nodded without smiling and headed off to a different part of the bar, bloody mary in hand and sword still strapped across her back. Looking back from her to the box in his hands, he felt his face twitch a little. Absently, he recognized the feeling as the one that came right before crying and clamped down on it. He’d really berate himself if he went to pieces over a simple box of peppers, a little bit of kindness, and acknowledgement. They _were_ his favorite, though.

Declining Emily’s offer of another shot, he paid his tab and left, now more hungry than thirsty. Maybe the fourth shot would come tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there! Any thoughts or crits are welcome, it's been a while since I've been posting my work again and I'm probably the most excited for this fic than I've been for my others. Anyway, my art/writing tumblr is [jellopunch](http://jellopunch.tumblr.com/) so pop by!


	2. Pink Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The days passed like normal, then, the monotony not feeling as awful as it usually did, which granted, wasn’t very much of a difference. Val still came to talk to him nearly every night, sometimes for almost an hour if he let her, sometimes just a minute or two. She barely seemed to care, just moving from person to person as she caught up with them. As much as Shane tried to not let the contact go to his head, it still happened. He was a lonely bastard, and someone taking the time to him meant more than it probably should’ve.

Days went by with work being work, nothing really changing as the season rolled headfirst into summer save the sticky heat that clung to everything in the valley. It made the air heavy and humid, the shift in weather making it clearly distinct when Shane was too exhausted to shower. The uncomfortable sweaty feeling coupled with his lack of energy to do more than work and drink most days just exacerbated the problem. It didn’t help his mood, body having never adjusted properly to existing an any manner, but especially in the summer.

On one of the last remaining cool nights, he forwent the nightly donations at the Stardrop and instead stood by the lake. The air around the water was still a little cold, the water itself at least making for something nice to look at. It was a good scene, one of his favorite, and even with the nagging thoughts to just _jump_ in the back of his head, it was going to be a good night. He needed a good night.

On the dock, he was drunk enough to be nice and not too drunk to hold a conversation. It was what he’d referred to as the “sweet spot,” a place where he felt the most comfortable in a fuzzy haze, but still clear headed enough to talk if he needed to. Not that he ever really needed to, few people rarely ventured into the forest at night.

However, she showed up.

He didn’t look, though he heard her approach. Heavy boots and something that jingled, he absently checked the time when she came to stand next to him. 11:48.

Val didn’t say anything when she came to stand next to him, almost like she didn’t realize he was there. Hell, _he_ barely felt like he was there.

Wanting to be a gracious host and feeling more charitable than normal, he pulled a can free and handed it to her. Not quite sure what came over him, he just let himself talk. It was more than he’d ever said to her put together, and he wasn’t quite sure why he was doing it, but she didn’t say a word. It could’ve been seen as depressing, in another life and from a different person, but he wasn’t used to talking about how he felt, and this was more than he’d given anyone in a long time. More or less drunk, he would’ve cared. But today had been good, better than most. That made a difference.

The air was a bit thick when he’d finished talking, sighing heavily. As if uncomfortable by the humidity and awkwardness in the air, Val tipped the beer back and drained it in one go. After a second she burped and Shane smiled a little at the sound, watching her roll the can on her forehead to cool off. The condensation beaded quickly and dripped down the bridge of her nose, pulling on the thin sheen of sweat there.

“Fast drinker, huh?” he muttered, mouth still turned up at the corners. “Woman after my own heart.”

She made an odd face and looked at the can, not saying anything. With a shrug, he took another drink, neither sober nor drunk enough to feel embarrassed. “Sweet spot” really was the ideal way to describe this particular lack of caring.

He finished his can and looked at the lake, at his unkempt reflection in the lightly rippling water. Without a doubt he was starting to get used to her presence, maybe even enjoy it a bit. That fact alone made him want to shove her away or warn her. _Of what? Do you think you're that important that you can actually change someone?_  “Just don’t make a habit of it… you got a future ahead of you still.”

She still didn’t answer, but he could see she was looking out at the lake now. With a sigh he finished his beer and picked up the rest of the pack, making an excuse to go inside. He was nearly to the end of the dock when she called back to him, forcing him to turn around.

“How do you know that?” she’d called, empty beer can still held in both of her hands. In the moonlight her hair looked almost black.

He raised an eyebrow, too tired to understand what she meant. “‘Scuse me?”

“That I have a future,” she clarified. She turned to face him fully, tall and straight like she hadn’t just chugged a beer in one go. “How can you know that, Shane?”

“I was just talking.”

She jogged up to him, the old boards clacking underfoot. “You were talking about yourself,” she said, pressing the can into his shirt until he took it from her. He did, holding it dumbly in a mix of shock and surprise. “There are very few things in life that you _truly_ can’t change.”

“How do you know that?” he asked in the same tone she had used on him.

“Just a personal philosophy,” she said with a shrug.

He found himself getting frustrated, but she just said goodnight and walked off past him. The bugs chittered around him in the silence, watching her go along with him. It was an odd encounter with an odd woman in an odd place. Clenching his jaw, he stalked back to his room and tossed out her old can before collapsing in his chair and drinking a few more, satisfying the desire to dampen his thoughts. It was stupid to confide in her, and even stupider to think it wouldn’t be weird afterwards. The last beer he had didn’t taste right and he frowned, just tossing it and collapsing into bed.

He woke up later than he meant to and earlier than he wanted. It wasn’t so bad, being awake before noon, but the earlier he woke up meant the more time he had to spend enduring the heat or just being awake in general. With a groan, he rolled back over and tried to sleep but after twenty minutes of nothing and feeling useless he decided it was time to wake up. At least he could feel useless while also eating an omelette.

Not bothering to get dressed, he shuffled into the kitchen in his underwear and bed shirt, breaking a few eggs and mixing them before putting them in the microwave. Absently, he figured it would taste better if he actually bothered to cook it, but convenience was always a factor for him. Usually the deciding one.

Right as the microwave was about to ding, he heard a laugh come from the shop. Curious at feeling like he recognized it, he peered around the edge of the entrance.

Val was standing there talking to Marnie, the both of them laughing amicably. His aunt spotted him and waved, Val turning with a smile on her face.

“Shane!” Marnie said in the same voice she had whenever she’d just made a sale. “I’m glad you’re here, you can help Val with the ducks she just bought!”

The microwave went off as if to punctuate. “No,” was all he said.

His aunt frowned. “You can eat breakfast first, we still have to go and pick out the birds.”

 _I really don’t fucking want to._ “Do ya _really_ need me to?”

“I _really_ do, Mayor Lewis is coming over soon to check over stock with me.”

Shane snorted at the mention of Lewis and Marnie turned a bit pink. _At least she’s embarrassed,_ he thought, taking it as a minor win to help ease the sting of already knowing there was no choice in the matter here. Not that he’d actually put up that big of a fight.

He ate his breakfast in uncomfortable silence, opting for coffee when the headache got to be too bad. Being forced outside wasn’t exactly on his list of things to get done today, but, grimly, he acknowledged that he didn’t even have a list to begin with. The eggs tasted worse after that realization.

It only took thirty minutes for them to come back with two cages, each with a screeching half-grown duckling inside of it. From the looks of them, they both still seemed to be more chick than adult with downy feathers still covering most of their bodies. Their adolescent chirping calmed down once they’d gotten inside, but they still fidgeted nervously in the carriers.

“Ready to go?” Val asked. She wasn’t smiling.

Shane grunted and got dressed, surprising himself with how little he cared that anyone was seeing him in his underwear. Sometimes the energy to care just wasn’t around. Outside, he carried the cage with the somewhat larger duckling, the thing being heavier than he’d thought it’d be. He huffed and puffed to her farm, noticing that Val was panting too, her breathing an odd rhythm. However, when they finally made it to her coop, he was nearly wheezing whereas she was just slightly out of breath. The embarrassed and shameful feeling had no trouble coming this time.

After a moment of catching his breath, he realized Val was actually waiting for him. He looked up at her from where he was stooped over with his hands on his knees. “Need something?” he asked, hating how breathless his voice sounded. He tried to regulate his breathing just a little.

“You alright?” she asked, genuine concern on her face.

“‘M fine,” he mumbled. Forcing himself to straighten up, he stretched in the sweaty afternoon heat. “Do you need me to move this anymore?”

She opened the bolt on the door to the coop and pushed the door open, gesturing inside. “Yeah, just help me get them inside and you can go.”

He took a deep breath and carried both cages in, feeling like the extra exertion would give him an excuse for how winded he was, but all he got was a half-smile and an incredulous look from Val. He put the cages down and watches as she gently released the ducklings, the look making his ears burn. 

Glancing around, he saw some feathers littering the coop, as well as an extraordinarily fat hen sitting by the window, asleep. His lips turned up at the corners a bit seeing her there, just the slightest bit excited.

“You have chickens?”

She looked up from where she was petting the ducklings to calm them down and raised an eyebrow. “Did you think I only had ducks?”

“I didn’t think about what you were raisin’ at all,” he said, voice and expression flat. Looking to the side with a quick sigh, he tried to fix his tone. “How many chickens you got?”

“Four,” she said, tone a bit guarded. Turning her head a little and peering at him oddly, she asked, “Do you want to come around and see them?”

He froze at the question, almost saying yes, because he honestly _loved_ chickens, but instead said no. “Not right now, I’ve got some stuff to do,” he said, not really knowing why he rejected her so quickly. He guessed he was just used to it, and he kicked himself for never following through with anything.

“Some other time, then?” she asked, voice uncomfortably hopeful, like she actually wanted to spend time with him and wasn’t just trying to be nice. He recalled the night before at the lake and discerned that she 100% was only asking because of how upsetting she must’ve found what he’d said.

_Fucking idiot, you can’t talk to anyone properly. Why even bother telling her even a little, it isn’t like she cares._

She’d gotten him a birthday present though, and a damn good one at that. And she actively tried to see him, and even if it was out of pity, it still felt genuine. _Lonely bastard._

“Yeah,” he said, feeling like it was a lie. “Some other time.”

She seemed to sense his off hesitation and stuck her hand out. “Here, give me your phone.”

“No?” he said, cautious.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m just gonna put my number in it.”

“I don’t need your number.”

“It’s just so you can tell me if you ever want to come over and see the chickens.” Her tone was still persistent, but she put her hand down. She even looked a little embarrassed, like she’d overstepped a boundary and knew it.

 _She sure as fuck did, tell her to leave you alone._ “Sure, fine,” he said because the insecure and isolationist part of his brain could go fuck itself. He pulled his phone out and offered it to her.

Her calloused fingers brushed against his hand as she took it. Shane quickly stuffed his hands back into his pockets, not enjoying the lingering feeling on his skin. _Stop acting like you’ve never touched another person before, get a grip._

She quickly tapped the number in and handed it back, telling him to just text her whenever he wanted to come and see. Shane looked at the phone and saw she’d added her contact as just _V_. It sat the very end of the list, though it wasn't a long one to begin with.

 _Like hell I’m texting you,_ he thought, pocketing his phone and making to leave. Val said she’d see him later and thanks for the help carrying the cages with her. He just nodded and left, feeling like he’d somehow wasted the day. Soon it would be night, then Sunday, then Monday and the rest of the week. The monotony struck him as he was walking back home from the Abernathy farm and nearly knocked the wind out of him. Back at the ranch, he ignored Marnie when she tried to talk to him and just locked himself in his room, starting in on a new case he’d bought.

The week went exactly as planned, in the same order it always does. Sometimes, when it got to be too bad, he went to the cliffs to look over them and wonder, but he was never able to muster up the courage to jump. No matter how much he drank or hated his life, it went on. And on the days when Val would show up at the bar to be nice to him, it somehow just made it worse. It all reminded him of how useless he was, how he was just going to drag others down with him. She never mentioned giving him her number, but he could just imagine her judging him for never doing anything other than work or drink. It was an awful, disgusting feeling.

It was a week later that he saw her again, though, distinctly aware that he’d yet to delete her number from his phone. He’d reasoned that he would the next time he remembered, but no one ever contacted him and his phone had maybe five contacts total. The solitary _V_ at the bottom of the list both intimidated and enraged him, hating how it doubled as a testament to his isolation and his ability to relieve it. _It’s just a phone number, get over it and delete it._

Jas woke him up early a few days larwe, excited to spend time with him for her birthday. It was the first time it’d actually fallen on a weekend and he didn’t have an excuse for keeping his distance. As much as he tried, she still loved him and he really did miss her. Seven-year-olds should never have to look as sad as Jas did when she looked at him.

First it was birthday breakfast, which was comprised almost entirely of pancakes seeing as how Jas barely touched anything that wasn’t sweet. Marnie gave her a new doll and a matching dress for her to wear, Jas almost losing her mind at seeing the sparkling teal dress. It was good to see her so excited, like a happy kid around him. Marnie’s gift might’ve made his own feel inadequate, but his niece still seemed genuinely excited to get the new sparkling hair bow. He wasn’t gonna win uncle of the year, but he _did_ love Jas.

After breakfast she wanted to play in her room, and he went with her, dutifully playing with her dollhouse until she asked if she could please paint his nails? He’d have to scrape it off before work on Monday, but if there was anyone he couldn’t say no to, it was Jas.

Later, after his finger and toenails were all different colors of polish, Jas pulled him outside to show where she normally spends her play time. Surprising himself, he didn’t find it boring. It’d been so long since he’d spent some time with Jas and guilty regret seeped into his gut, angry at himself for pushing her away. Still, in the back of his mind that terrible part of him knew she was just better off without him.

In the middle of sitting under the shade of her favorite tree, she gasped.

“Wait!” She scrambled up and started tugging him with her. “We have to go and see Miss Val!”

He frowned at the mention of her but he got up anyway, letting himself be tugged along. “What for?”

Jas had a look of determination on her face as she lead the way to the bridge that connected the two farms. “She said I could come and play with her dog this weekend.”

It was a weird thing for Jas to seem so excited about, and even weirder for her to be talking to strangers. _She probably talks to Jas more than you do,_ he realised with a pang of regret and jealousy. Distancing himself from Jas so she wouldn’t be so upset when he finally got up the courage had been his plan, but actually having it work hurt something awful inside of him.

At the old Abernathy farm, Val was in the middle of weeding crops when they walked over the few bridges that connected the small mass of islands that made up her land. She stood as soon as she saw them, hair pulled back and dirt covering her printed overalls.

Jas seemed almost excited to see her, smiling widely and waving a little. She called her “Miss Val” and even gave her a hug when Val invited her over to where the dog was sleeping. He was a large mutt, probably something with a retriever, and was lying lazily next to the river, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. There was a large blue bandana around his neck with a bone print repeating on it.

“His name is Macadamia,” Val said proudly, gesturing to him. “I usually call him Mac, though.”

“What kind of dog is he?” Jas asked, walking forward hesitantly to pet him. He opened his eyes and wiggled a bit, encouraging her to scratch him more.

Val shrugged. “Yellow?”

Shane snorted at the comment, feeling less awkward as time went on. It wasn’t so bad, and this morning had been pretty alright. He didn’t even care when Jas was busy trying hats and sunglasses on the dog and Val turned her attention towards him.

“I like your nails,” she said, face almost a smirk and clearly trying to repress laughter. “They’re very pretty.”

“Jas did them.” Still, he shoved his hands back into his pockets and huffed, hating how she’d chosen to point them out. He remembered her name in his phone, the back of his neck sweating, hoping she didn’t bring that up too.

Val elbowed him slightly, his body stiffening at the unwelcome contact. “She did a great job.”

He huffed but was glad she chose to just drop the conversation and just watch Jas with him. It was nice, the dog was surprisingly gentle, licking her face and clearly willing to endure anything so long as she scratched his ears. It was nice, comfortable despite the heat, and Shane almost found himself dozing off before Val started next to him.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, standing up suddenly. She half jogged inside and Shane just watched as she slammed the door shut behind her. He didn’t bother trying to ask what she was doing and elected to just watch Jas continue to dress the dog.

She came back outside after a few minutes, carrying a huge container carefully. Jas turned at the commotion and gasped, both hands going to cover her face as Val handed her the large round tupperware. His niece tilted a little like she was going to drop it, unstable and off-center.

“What is this?” Shane asked, taking the container. It was heavier than it looked.

Val opened her mouth, but Jas beat her to it. “Pink cake!” His niece was positively vibrating with excitement, the sight of her actually acting like a kid making him smile a bit.

He turned it upside to look through the clear bottom. It was indeed pink, though it looked too sweet for his tastes. “You make it?”

“Oh, it was a gift but I don’t like sweets that much,” she said airily with a wave of her hand. “But Marnie told me the other day she absolutely loves the stuff and I figured Jas might too.”

It was an odd thing to save. An entire cake? He didn’t say anything though, not wanting to contest the happy look Jas had on. She looked positively ecstatic, a look he hadn’t seen on her for a long time.

“We should get this home before the frosting melts then,” he said, smiling at Jas.

She nodded enthusiastically, her mood contagious. “Can we have it for dinner?”

“It’s too pink for me, Jazzy. You and Marnie can go to town though.”

He barely caught her “that means I can have your piece,” before she grabbed the cake and started the walk back to their house.

“Cake for dinner?” Val asked, watching Jas struggle to carry the massive container.

Shane shrugged. “I have trouble telling her no.”

“You’re lucky she doesn’t need to be.” Val shrugged and sighed, a hand holding the right side of her ribcage absently. “You better catch her before she falls over.”

His niece teetered but held fast, however, getting a bit distracted by a small patch of wildflowers. “Trust me, she won’t let me carry it.” Turning back to Val, he had to squint as the sun shined behind her, pulling all of the red out in her hair. “Thanks for the cake. It’s her birthday today you know?”

She nodded, smiling a bit. “I know, Marnie told me last week.”

He tilted his head, noticing her tone. It was oddly frank. Very honest. “It’s a nice thought. I really appreciate it; she doesn’t smile enough for a little kid.”

Val nodded again, eyes a bit far away. Clearing her throat, she turned towards Shane and smiled at him. “Better get home. It’d be embarrassing to get beat by an eight-year-old.”

He agreed and ran after his niece, glad to just be away from the farm. After a sufficient distance and watching her struggle with the cake, he scooped up Jas and carried her until he was out of breath, which happened too quickly for his liking. She wasn’t a heavy kid by any means, but his core strength just wasn’t what it used to be. _Maybe if you actually bothered to exercise you wouldn’t be so weak._

He grimaced and just finished the walk home listening to Jas talk. True to his word, he didn’t make her eat dinner and Marnie certainly didn’t bother to fight it, the both of them destroying nearly half of the massive cake while Shane just reheated something he could barely taste in the microwave. It was a disappointment when even food wasn’t as satisfying as it should’ve been. Soon it was bed time and he just sat awake drinking again, angry he wasn’t able to even go a day and angry he even cared. Sometimes, late at night, he’d walk to the pier and stare at the calm water, knowing it wasn’t enough but still hoping anyway.

The days passed like normal, then, the monotony not feeling as awful as it usually did, which granted, wasn’t very much of a difference. Val still came to talk to him nearly every night, sometimes for almost an hour if he let her, sometimes just a minute or two. She barely seemed to care about the duration, just moving from person to person as she caught up with them. As much as Shane tried to not let the contact go to his head, it still happened. He was a lonely bastard, and someone taking the time to talk to him meant more than it probably should’ve.

Then, one Friday midway through July, she showed up in the bar without her tool belt and just her purse. There were bits of dirt on her face and the distinct smell of watered soil clung to her and it was clear she’d just gotten off of the farm to come here. _It wasn’t just to see you, don’t feel too important_ , the back of his mind said and he believed it, knowing he was just something extra she decided to pass the time with, but as he started seeing her and interacting more and more often, he realized over and over how grossly starved he was for attention.

However, she just sat down by him without more than a cursory greeting for Emily and Gus. She ordered a bloody mary and sat perched on a stool by his regular spot, one leg crossed over the other.

“How’s your day going?” she asked, pushing her loose hair behind an ear. It was the first time he’d seen it down in a while. It seemed longer.

He shrugged, half wanting to tell her to leave him alone and half wanting to air every grievance he had about working at Joja. “It was alright. Long.”

“Longer than usual?” She sipped her drink and raised an eyebrow at him, the look making him smile a bit.

“It was a typical day.”

She shrugged a bit and he liked that she didn’t tell him she was sorry or give advice like other people did. It seemed like she knew boundaries. “I don’t have a ton of time tonight, I have to get to the beach, but I wanted to stop in and talk a bit,” she said, fishing in her bag a bit.

 _To me?_ he asked himself, noticing she was already half done with her drink. “You have plans?”

“Something like that,” she mumbled, pulling a small brown paper bag out of her pack and putting it on the bartop. “Have to do night fishing. Important recipe needs specific fish.”

He instinctively took a hard drink of his beer, knowing she was about to give him something. It still gave him anxiety to just accept stuff, but at least she didn’t try to do it too often. “Can you actually cook?”

She shook her head. “It’s why I’m practicing.” Quickly, she finished off her bloody mary and put it on the bar, next to the brown bag and looked at him, smiling a little. “I do want to mention though that my offer to come and see the chickens still stands. I think they might even be getting a little bored of me.”

He tensed up immediately, looking away from her and towards his drink, embarrassed that she’d brought up her unused contact in his phone. Honestly, he’d nearly forgotten it himself, already so resigned to never asking that he’d forgotten he was even _allowed._ He might know he’s a forgetful idiot, but being reminded of it wasn’t exactly welcome.

So he only said maybe again, mostly to his beer.

Her smile faltered for a moment and came back, but it wasn’t the same. “Alright,” she said, tone a bit tight. “When you have time, you know?”

He nodded and she made to leave, seeming to forget the brown bag for a second before she picked it up and handed it to him, saying they were red peppers. A little stunned, Shane watched as she started to walk out before quickly opening the bag to confirm they were indeed peppers. Swallowing, an unwelcome mix of emotion churned in his guts and he finished his beer for courage.

“Hey!” he called after her, still holding the small sack dumbly in his hands.

She turned and raised an eyebrow, foot halfway out the door and sticky summer air bleeding into the cool room. “Yeah?”

The bar creaked a bit as Gus started polishing one of the taps, and Shane became aware of the small audience he’d have for his confrontation. Frowning, he looked away from Val and peeked out the door at the blue night. “Why’re you always givin’ people shit?”

“I could ask you the same question,” she said in an infuriatingly mocking tone, closing the door and sealing herself inside just a bit longer.

“You know what I mean.”

Farm girl shrugged. “I like to.”

Shane waited for a better response, hating himself for asking and now not being able to answer. Creeping anger and frustration seeped up his back and just let her leave with another goodbye, sealing him back into the bar. He held the paper bag just a little bit tighter and paid Gus after a few minutes, not wanting to seem like he was leaving because she was.

That night he just lied in bed and stared at the ceiling. The peppers had been savaged pretty much the second he’d gotten home and only after he was finished did he even try to question why she’d given them to him. Emily or Marnie could’ve told her, but it seemed unlikely unless she deliberately asked. That thought alone made his ears burn, both in embarrassment and some kind of sick enjoyment that she was curious about him. He really was a lonely bastard, and selfish too because he was starting to feel like he should just let her give him gifts if it meant getting his favorite stuff for free.

Then again, he also knew himself too well to know it was entirely material selfishness. He liked being thought of and time after time he just proved how lonely he was. The gift had been small in retrospect but the thought behind it was so much. If admitting to his own selfishness made him uncomfortable, then admitting to how much a simple bag of peppers melted his glacial demeanor made him downright outraged.

It was the combination of being read like a book and absolutely loving the result that really got to him. Nearly every conversation they’d had had been less than five words and the better part of them had been borderline insults designed to freeze people out. The peppers broke a part of him, _made him uncomfortable,_ but there was something to say about the endearingness in the gesture. It was nice, less fake and more personal than he’d talked himself into believing. Rather than a city girl who tried too hard, she felt more… genuine. It wasn’t a quality Shane was looking forward to enduring.

Still, it was difficult to remain standoffish, especially after trying the peppers she gave him. He swore, it had to be something in the dirt of the farm or the water, but something about it made the peppers some of the best he’d ever tasted. The entire bag was gone in one night, all ten peppers burning his mouth in the most pleasant way. A nice sheen of sweat, the itching on his tongue, and the duality of the lingering sweet and spicy taste.

 _I’ll keep doing it for the peppers_ , he reasoned. It was meant to placate himself but if there was anyone that was good at making him feel like shit, it was himself.

The peppers _were_ a motivation, but really it was that he was starting actually enjoy seeing her most days. The attempt at friendship confused him, and only confused him more after she kept coming back from every rebuke. Not everyday was pleasant, but enough were that after sharing a beer at the lake with her, he was at least curious.

On the one hand, the peppers had been delicious. They’d been sweet and hot at the same time, the perfect kind of bite he looked for. And they’d been a gift. A blind one, though her eyes had looked knowing when she’d handed him the bag. Deciding that finding out _how_ she’d known was a good reason to text her, he reached down the side of his bed for his phone.

He looked for her name in his contacts, finding where she’d put her name. She was still there, just a _V_.

_Is tomorrow good to see the chickens?_

The phone clattered against his nightstand when he dropped it, praying she wasn’t awake to answer. He’d never even put his number in her phone, how would she know who it was? With his arm over his eyes, he sighed and frowned, already wishing he hadn’t sent it. It was pointless to talk to her, why was he feeling so fucking easy and why was he getting so worked up.

Outside of his head, the phone buzzed on his nightstand, the unexpected sound startling him. Almost frantically, he picked it up and saw her name on the screen: _V._

_Sure! Come after work, they need their beauty sleep._

He cracked a smile, reading the message a few more times. Limbs nearly shakey with relief that it was over, he dropped the phone back on his nightstand and laid back. Sleep didn’t feel so far away now.

The next morning was the first one he could remember where he woke up before his alarm. Bleary and yet unable to fall back asleep, he just watched his clock tick closer and closer to going off. It just made him feel more tired when the alarm actually sounded. He turned it off and rolled back over.

By the time the panic of missing work set in, it had been twenty more minutes and he had to run out of the house without breakfast, for once prioritizing showering over eating. Everything went as usual but he found himself getting through it more easily, a feeling he recognized as anticipation and excitement bubbling inside of him. It’d been so long since he’d been excited for anything that the sensation had been hard to place at first.

When he was freed at five, the sun was hanging low in the sky, a heavy orange and red haze. It would’ve felt foreboding but in the summer heat and screaming cicadas, it was just hot. Unfamiliar excitement started bubbling in his guts again at seeing the sun, the knowledge that it was actually time getting his nerves to work double time. After half an hour of walking in the evening summer heat, he knew it wasn’t just the hot air that got him so sweaty.

Val was waiting for him on the porch of her farm, sitting in a rocking bench with her hair pulled into a low ponytail. Her dog was lying across her feet, tongue lolling out as he licked her feet. The nerves he had about coming reared up again and he wished he had a drink.

“You came!” she called out when she saw him puffing down the cobblestone path from the bus stop. There was a wide smile on her face and he felt himself relax a bit.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he huffed, side aching from the walk. He hadn’t realized how fast he’d taken it and the reminder of how out of shape he was wasn’t welcome.

“You sure Gus is alright with being stood up?”

He rolled his eyes, trying to get his breathing under control. “I think he can handle a night without me.”

“Great!” She hopped off the bench, her white dress swirling around her knees. “Well, you know where the coop is, but I’m gonna have to actually find a few of the chickens.”

She started to walk off towards one of the islands, the river babbling lazily around them. “You just let them wander?” he asked, following.

“They look after themselves pretty well,” she said with a shrug. “I should put a fence up eventually though, lately they’ve been pecking at my crops more and more.”

“Don’t you feed them enough?” he asked, letting a small smile onto his face. It was nice walking with her and he could hear the soft clucking of the hens in the distance, finding conversation with her to be surprisingly easy.

“They’re so fat already,” she huffed, peering through a small field of half-grown corn stalks. She reached inside and pulled a chicken free, the small white bird definitely a bit plumper that it should be. “See?” she said, offering the pullet to him.

He took the chicken and looked at her for a moment, the bird’s head tilting as she considered him. Carefully, he shifted her in his hands so he could pet her, her eyes closing as he scratched behind her head. He could feel little vibrations inside of her as he cradled her and she cooed quietly, soft feathers ruffling a bit.

“I think she likes you,” Val said, Shane starting a little at her voice. “Her name is Dixie.”

“She’s a pretty girl,” he said quietly, still rubbing under her feathers.

She made a noise of agreement and gestured for him to follow her, Shane still holding Dixie. They found two more chickens, a white and brown each. He was told their names were Belle and Gladys respectively and were “particularly cliquish” as Val put it. Shane wasn’t quite sure how chickens could be cliquish, but they were rather standoffish whereas Dixie still seemed to be content to just get carried around. Val said the bird was just lazy, but there was a hint in her smile that said how much she liked that her hen had taken a liking to him. If he was being honest, he liked it too.

The inside of the coop was cleaner than he’d expected it to be, imagining how Val must spend everyday making sure the chickens are as comfortable as possible.

“These are the ducks you helped me bring the other month,” she said, pointing to where two half-feathered ducks were resting on a few boxes.

“Damn, they got big,” he commented. Dixie adjusted herself in his arms and he pat her head absently, the chickens eyes closing again.

Val cracked a smile. “They eat enough to be sure. I’ve already had to clip their wings once, I’m gonna have to do it again soon.”

That surprised him. “Really? They’re only a couple months old.”

“Ducks can start flying when they pass two months.” Her expression turned frazzled and Shane got the idea that she’d had learned that the hard way.

“What’re their names?”

The mottled white one looked at them while her companion was asleep, her head turned to the side. “The white one is Pepper and the shiny green and black one is Olive.”

He snorted and looked around, seeing a few eggs still waiting in the bedding and saw a chicken she hadn’t named. “Who’s this?” he asked, gesturing to a fat brown chicken asleep by the window, remembering seeing her last month.

“That one is Mavis,” she said. “She never goes outside as far as I’ve seen, and sits there every day.”

Val went to move the bird but she wouldn’t budge, clearly happy right where she was. She huffed at her and called her lazy, but still bent over to pet the bird affectionately. Despite feeling like he was intruding, Shane felt inexplicably warm standing in the coop and watching Val take care of her birds. She seemed to genuinely love them, affectionately taking care of them and spoiling them. It was a nice scene, the kind of thing he wished he had when he was doing mind-numbing work over at Joja.

Shane put Dixie down, readying the apology he’d been thinking about all week. The chicken turned her head and let out a soft _bok_ before tapping at his shoes, clearly looking to be picked up again. He bent down to pet her for a second before straightening up and looking at where Val was fiddling with the incubator.

“Hey, so…” he started, absently rubbing the back of his head. He wasn’t exactly sure what to say, but he felt guilty for the way he’d treated her. His mood swings weren’t her fault and neither were his terrible people skills. Dixie pecked at his errant shoelaces, clearly attempting to tame them, and he gently nudged her away.

Val turned from straightening the incubator to him, an eyebrow raised. She saw him trying to stop the chicken from eating his shoes. “She’s really into your sneakers, isn’t she?”

He smiled without meaning to. “She just had good taste.”

“Yeah, in things that smell terrible.” She grinned at him and picked Dixie up, petting the pullet affectionately. “Something up?”

A small lump formed in the back of his throat, nervous all over again at the thought of apologizing. “Yeah,” he said, swallowing the feeling. “I just wanted to apologize for being a jerk before. It can take a while for me to warm up to someone.”

She made an odd face, half caught between incredulous and a smile. “Thanks,” she said, putting Dixie down. “It’s nice to know you’re just like that.”

“Now you’re just being a dick,” he said with a grimace.

“I am,” she admitted. “I still appreciate the apology.”

It was a relief to hear it, more than he thought it would’ve been. “Plus it was really nice of you to give Jas that cake for her birthday.”

She grinned widely, bright teeth behind red lips. “I have to admit now, I didn’t really get it as a present.”

“You bake it?” He raised an eyebrow. She didn’t really seem the type for baking.

“I was just so excited to be able to afford the stuff for it, I made it.” She pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear and crossed her arms, blushing slightly. It was an endearing look. “I didn’t even think about how I can’t eat more than a bite or two of cake before it makes me feel sick.”

“Well Jas and Marnie went wild for it. I think they’ve been sated for a little while at least.”

“I’m glad,” she said, smile and tone genuine.

He blushed a bit, scratching his head again as he asked her to tell her a bit more about the chickens. Her smile only got wider at the opportunity to talk about them, affectionately calling them her feathery children. Dixie was the most friendly, clearly, because she pecked at Shane’s shoes until he lifted her again, Val making the same face she had earlier. It was nice, friendly, and he actually got the idea that they were actually friends this time. Val wasn’t so bad, and her presents and conversations with him seemed less out of pity and more out of genuine compatibility. The thought that he had another friend scared him in an uncomfortable way, voice in the back of his head positively screaming that this wasn’t supposed to happen.

After maybe an hour, he left. She invited him to get dinner with her, but he needed to be alone. Maybe that would make it easier to come to terms with himself, maybe it wouldn’t. Regardless, he declined and tried to not feel bad about the disappointed twinge her expression took on. He said goodbye and left as fast as he could without it seeming like he was rushing, body finally relaxing when he realized how tense it had been. It had been half the distance between her coop and the bridge before she shouted, trying to get his attention.

“Hey!” he heard her call out behind him.

He turned and saw her standing at the edge of the bridge, dress a stark white in the dusk light. “What’s up?” he called back, body feeling weaker from all the sapped adrenaline.

“Come back again, okay?”

A smile twitched at his lips and he let it happen, felt it spread completely. It had been a while since a smile felt so genuine, but he found he liked it. “Yeah, definitely!” he called back, telling himself it would just be for the chickens. The warm feeling that stayed in his guts all night, though, said that was just an excuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go lads. As usual, I love getting comments! Really makes me happy to see my inbox notifs go up, and even if I don't respond I still read them constantly.


	3. Wheat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jas was the only person who even attempted to see him. She never said anything, he just caught her peeping around corners and under his door frame occasionally, like she was checking he was still there. The meaning behind the gesture hurt, more than he thought something could in his numbed state. Someone her age has had too much time to comprehend what death was, and it showed in how she made sure he wasn’t gone. It hurt to think one day she’d check and he wouldn’t be there, but at this point he didn’t see another way out.

“Can I sleep in here?”

Shane opened his eyes, bleary and tired, and saw Jas standing by his face in bed. She was barely lit by the light from his window, her shiny black hair loose and erratic around her head. The doll that Marnie had gotten for her the week before was clutched in her hands.

When he didn’t answer right away, she repeated her request, shaking him again. “Can I please sleep in here?”

He rubbed his eyes and stretched, opening the blanket for her to climb in. “‘Course,” he said with a yawn, closing the blanket and sealing her in when she was comfortable. “You have a nightmare?”

She nodded, hair tickling his chin. “It’s too loud outside too.”

Distantly, he acknowledged the thunderstorm that must’ve gone off while he was comatose. He checked his alarm clock, sighing when he saw it blinking 3:07.

“Where’s Marnie?” he asked, hating that he had to ask. Jas hadn’t been to his room for a nightmare in almost a year, almost always instead preferring warm and comforting Marnie. He was proud of the change, happy to accept her, but it made him suspicious.

“Mr. Lewis is in her room.” She sniffed and buried her face further into his chest, curling tightly against him on the tiny single bed.

 _Good thing she didn’t go in there, they probably would’ve just given her more nightmares._ “Well don’t worry Jazzy, monsters think I taste terrible, so you should be safe.”

She just nodded and he held her tightly, not allowing himself to fall back asleep until he felt her rhythmic breathing. His chest swelled at knowing she felt safe, wishing he truly could remain this way for her sake, but knew it was a vain wish.

In hindsight, he should’ve cherished that night just a bit more. It was base and sweet, everything he’d always wished he could be for Jas rolled up into one comforting night during a thunderstorm. It was the last good night he had, probably one of the best ones he’d had in a while. Then, the way he _was_ crept up on him harshly, made him angrier and distant, getting worse but was still manageable. Until it wasn’t anymore.

 _In hindsight_ , he should’ve seen the bad day coming.

Sleep had been getting harder, showering had been getting harder, caring about waking up for work on time had almost become non-existent and the dysfunctional lazy side of himself almost won every time before his panicked anxiety reared up and forced him to go to work. No matter how exhausted he was, no matter how little he cared, that inexplicable nervous shame inside of him forced him up, draining him of the little energy he had. The awful fatigue that accompanied it didn’t even allow him to spend time with Jas and after a few days, she just stopped trying, easily recognizing the failure inside of him. Without even the attempts to socialize with his daughter, curling into a shell got easier. There was less collateral damage.

Inside of his mind, just being around anyone was getting nearly too hard to stand. Nights at the bar grew to be more like how they used to be, even when Val came in close to closing and gave him something or just chatted. Nothing was the same, and he felt like he was screaming inside every time he rebuked her and saw the distant, surprised hurt flash on her face before she just backed off to go and talk to Emily. She even came over to the ranch to see him twice, probably expecting the same kind of person he’d been in the chicken coop, but he couldn’t muster up the energy to be that person. Hell, he even doubted if that person existed.

It had just been embarrassment piled on top of the already growing pit in his stomach, a horrible mix that only served to push him further. It was a vicious cycle; feeling upset for no reason so he snaps, then feeling upset about snapping and drinking to take the edge off. Rinse and repeat. It got to the point where he couldn’t even stand the Stardrop anymore and he’d resorted to drinking alone in his room two nights in a row. It was made even more depressing when he realized it was Friday and Val would probably be waiting for him at the bar by now.

 _Like she’d miss you. Probably doesn’t even realize you aren’t there. It wouldn’t matter if you just did it tonight, you know._ Sitting in his room in a haze, he finished the last beer in the caddy and reached for the case under his bed, the last remaining one.

“Have to get more,” he mumbled, pulling one free and pulling the tab, already more relaxed after the familiar burn hit the back of his throat.

He leaned back and sighed, closing his eyes, drunk, but not enough yet. Guilt and disappointment were already built in spades, finally released to seep under his skin like some kind of illness. The drinking helped, but it was more like a bandaid, just helping him last until he fell asleep and reset or until he got the courage to wander to the bluffs and jump. With that thought in mind, he finished the beer and immediately opened another. Then another. Then another.

By the time he knew counting the empty cans strewn around his room would be impossible, he figured he was finally drunk enough to just do it. It’d finally be over, he could just go down to the bluffs and let the wind do the work for him. It’d be perfect, Jas wouldn’t have to be disappointed by him anymore, he wouldn’t be around to embarrass himself anymore.

However, just trying to stand proved difficult and upon fully getting on his feet, he was too drunk to even stand without swaying dangerously. Trying to walk was just impossible, his world spinning as he slammed face-down onto his carpet, already berating himself for getting so piss drunk he couldn’t even finish the job. Absently, he felt like crying but there just wasn’t enough of him left to do it.

_Stupid fucking idiot, don’t even know your own limits. At least roll onto your back and you might choke in your sleep, too useless to even jump and too much of a coward for anything else. Worthless drunk, bad parent, pitiful excuse for a person._

The worst part of it is that passing out on the floor was the best sleep he’d gotten for nearly two weeks.

The next morning he woke up _hard_ , sputtering and bleary. Marnie repeated her question and he barely heard it, hoisting himself to sit and mumbling that he wouldn’t be around for long anyway. The small sob that came from the hallway, however, snapped him back to reality. The hard sound of Jas' footsteps as she ran out of the room sticking in the back of his, forming the rhythm of his headache.

His mouth opened and closed like a fish but the surprise quickly turned to self-loathing, boiling cold in his gut. Sitting on the floor, sweaty and hungover surrounded by too many beer cans, he just barely noticed a flash of dark orange slink out of the room. Her red boots were the only thing he’d actually managed to catch a full glimpse of before she was left his room.

Marnie soon followed, his face burning in shame as she shut the door behind her. The lonely hollow in his gut only expanded.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat ruminating on the rug, but the pity party he was having on the floor was halted when he finally had to get up to pee, and he figured he might as well wash the beer off while he had the motivation to stand. A shower didn’t even make him feel better, just offering more opportunity to be alone with himself. It was almost like a string of grievances against himself, a parade of everything he’d done wrong in and with his life. When he’d had enough of reliving embarrassing things he’d done in high school, he climbed out and contemplated shaving before deciding he didn’t have the patience to get through more than half his face before stopping. Besides, was there really a point to looking clean?

Standing in his room in a towel, he caught sight of himself in the reflection of his television. With a grimace, he pinched his middle and sighed, hating that he’d let himself go and hating that he was nostalgic for when he was a teen. A washed-up drunk hadn’t been his plan when he was younger, but like with so many other things, he’d ruined the bright future he’d had for himself.

Getting dressed was just a means so he could stop looking at himself, and the thin undershirt and shorts did an acceptable job of that. Idly, he figured he should eat something but food hadn’t really tasted like anything lately. A damn shame.

About to open the door to the kitchen, a sound caught his attention. He pressed his ear to the door and listened carefully.

“You’re gonna have to calve a cow before she produces milk, but she should be good for nearly a year after that.” It was Marnie, probably answering a question a customer had about their herd. “Goats kid more frequently and can be easier to handle for a first-timer.”

There was light shuffling and the distinct sound of something clicking. “Thanks, Marnie, I appreciate the advice. I’ve been looking into costs and I might go with goats first.”

He recognized that voice. It was low and raspy, the kind of voice he expected to hear in the back of a bar in the city. Val. Swallowing thickly, he listened to aunt say it was no problem, not bothering to wonder why he was still listening. If anything, he didn’t want to hear what they had to say, still remembering that Val had been around to witness yet another embarrassment. About to give up, he heard Val clear her throat. He snapped to attention and tried to listen harder, closing his eyes.

“Is he like this often?” Val asked. Her tone was flat, unemotional.

His aunt was anything but, sounding tired and worried. “He has good and bad days, but he’s been having more bad days the past year.”

He frowned, pressing his ear to the door harder. Who were they to talk about him like this? They probably even knew he was listening, were trying to guilt him into changing himself or just make him feel like shit. _You deserve it, you know. Making Jas cry, you absolutely deserve it._

“What do you mean?” Val, a slight hint of curiosity.

Marnie sighed, the sound clearly audible. “He’s always had a case of the blues since he was a kid, but I don’t remember it being this bad. He usually preferred to be alone, but he’d always at least spend time with the animals. The past few years, he’s just been drinking more and more…”

“He lived here as a kid?”

“My sister would bring him and his brother around for the summers.” Marnie’s voice turned a bit reminiscent and all Shane wanted to do was puke. “She said the fresh air was good for them.”

“I didn’t know he had a brother,” Val said quietly, but her tone said she’d put something together.

Shane pushed away from the door in disgust, not wanting to hear anything else. It was a violation of privacy, unnecessary and unwarranted. Why even bother asking? Why bother caring after she’d just seen him passed out on his filthy carpet. Desperate for something to take the edge off, he rooted around for something to drink and came up with a few beers that had escaped his grips the night before. They added up to a six pack.

 _Did I really have 24 beers last night?_ he asked himself, looking at the cans he’d assembled. The number was a scary one and his stomach gurgled in response. Faced with the reality of his problem, he cracked one open and took a drink. Only after he’d finished it and wiped his face did he notice it was barely two. Day drinking was a new low.

When Val left, he finally crept out of his room, seeing that Marnie had left too. The relief of being alone was nearly palpable and he finally made himself something to eat. The freezer only had his usual in it and he found himself wishing for anything fresh to counter the gummed-up feeling in his body, but he just heated up a pizza instead. The cheese would make him feel better.

For the most part, he was left alone the remainder of the weekend. He avoided Marnie and Val didn’t come over. She didn’t text him and she sure as fuck didn’t call him. The slight snub made him relieved he wouldn’t have to deal with another person again but sick to his stomach that he could’ve tossed something away. Everyone had their limits with him, and he feared he’d found hers.

Jas was the only person who even attempted to see him. She never said anything, he just caught her peeping around corners and under his door frame occasionally, like she was checking he was still there. The meaning behind the gesture hurt, more than he thought something could in his numbed state. Someone her age has had too much time to comprehend what death was, and it showed in how she made sure he wasn’t gone. It hurt to think one day she’d check and he wouldn’t be there, but at this point he didn’t see another way out.

By Monday, the mood had mostly passed. He was still feeling low, but it was his baseline by now. Numbness accompanied by a hollow feeling and sense of impending dread? _That_ was normal, and he carried that feeling throughout the day, wanting more than anything to dump it out at the saloon.

Work was finally over and he was out the door the moment the clock hit five. He’d nearly completely missed Val standing by the entrance with her arms over her chest in his haste to escape. Startled to see her there, he just looked at her for a few seconds before asking what she was doing there.

She shrugged. “I wanted to come and see you.”

His cheeks flushed and he chalked it up the summer heat. “Did Marnie put you up to this?”

Shane had never seen the emotion in someone’s face drop so quickly, and the sudden shift put him off for a second before she seemed to settle on a deep frown. “Do you think you need someone to check up on you?”

The tone she said it in reminded him of the conversation they’d had on the pier over two months ago. It was the same _kind_ of statement, less of a question and more of a challenge. Once, the kind of question would’ve made him angry, but there was still the residual shame of being found on his bedroom floor, gut clenching awkwardly in a way he couldn’t place at her seeing him like that. Marnie’s worried face, Jas running away in tears, Val standing over him, her face an angry kind of expressionless.

So he just shrugged, too much shame in his body to be angry at anyone but himself. “It’s your time to waste.” He started walking off towards the saloon, needing a drink more than anything.

Without missing a beat, she took an easy pace next to him. “I’m insulted you’d think I’d waste my time.”

It was a playful thing to say, her tone shifting back smoothly into what seemed to be her usual demeanor. To be told he wasn’t a waste of time shouldn’t have made him feel so good, but he guessed he was just pathetic enough for it to work. It gave him a somewhat pleasant mood, helped distract him from the nervous roiling in his stomach that came with spending any meaningful amount of time with someone that wasn’t Jas. So much so that he asked her if she wanted to sit with him when they got to the bar, finding he craved the at-ease mood she gave off, wanted to see just how much kindness he could squeeze out of her.

The night went so _well_ that he was almost scared to go home, wanting this to turn into a good day so badly, but it was clear Val was tired by the time it was midnight. Almost reluctantly, he let her go when she said it was time to sleep. By the time she’d walked out, Shane realized he’d only had three pints. It felt weird to be so… sober this late at night, but he didn’t get a refill. Instead, he waited 15 minutes for Val to get ahead of him before he left and went home, a restless sleep plaguing him.

The next day he’d managed to convince himself he’d imagined the entire encounter, almost believing it sincerely by the time he left for the day and found Val again leaning against the wall of Joja Mart. Conversation started easily again, her raspy voice filling the humid air while he declined to talk. The night before had been a fluke and as he understood that she intended to make this regular, it was harder to reconcile the friendship in his mind. It’d been years since he’d had a friend, let alone a meaningful one that wasn't Emily, but he found himself growing uncomfortably attached. Her confident demeanor, warm eyes, and frank attitude sucked him right in and the ease with which he gave was scary.

After a week, he grew comfortable enough to actually ask her something without feeling like he was bothering her. The rational side of him said it was ridiculous that she could be annoyed when _she_ was coming to _him,_ but the rational side rarely got a word in these days.

“What’re you doin’ with all that?” he asked, gesturing to the belt across her chest.

A hand smoothed across it like she’d forgotten it was there. “I go into the mines,” she said, voice a little distant. She looked away across the river towards to beach, then turned to him. “It brings in some extra money.”

He raised an eyebrow, actually pausing to lean on the bridge railing. For once, he didn’t have the single-minded desire to get to the bar as fast as possible. “Is farming not going well?”

“Actually, farming is going really well right now.” Her fingers tapped on the buckle and she reshouldered her pack so she could lean next to him. “It’s why I’m not still in there.”

Something clicked in his head, remembering how she’d always walked in right before closing. “Why keep going in then?”

“Gotta hit the bottom.”

“What for?”

She shrugged. “To say I can? I’m greedy and even though farming is going well, I always need more money.”

A few frogs croaked in the distance and he watched her turn her head to look, a little smile growing on her face. Her nose in profile made a sharp shape against the purpling dusk, Shane looking away and clearing his throat, considering why he’d bothered to notice. In fact, he nearly avoided looking at her as she chatted on the way to the bar, finally chancing a glance and finding he rather liked the shade of orange her hair was in the setting sunlight.

Inside, she sat with him as usual, Emily chatting amicably with them both while Shane relaxed. Things felt… well, they were okay. He could feel himself becoming somewhat more human, not just an animal that worked, drank, and went to bed. It was easier to be awake, a feat he didn’t think he’d ever see actually happen. In fact it had gotten to the point where he’d even say he was _comfortable._ It was a nice arraignment, getting walked home from work. Sometimes she showed him pictures of her chickens and asked when he would be seeing them again. Dixie was absolutely distraught that he hadn’t been around, the lady didn’t like being stood up. _That_ had actually pulled a real laugh from him, and he found himself just more willing to talk. It was foreign and not entirely unwelcome, body relieved to not be tense constantly.

Towards the middle of August, when she mentioned another round of harvesting would be due soon for the peppers, he was actually reminded to ask how she'd _known_.

“How’d you know they were my favorite?” he asked.

She tapped a few extra drops of Tabasco into her bloody mary and stirred it. “Oh, Emily told me you liked pepper poppers, and I figured it extended to cheese and peppers.”

 _Or just food in general,_ he thought, mood dipping a bit as was reminded how much of a glutton he was. “So it was just a good guess?”

The bar noise filled in the silence while she considered the bottle of Tabasco, Shane drinking to diffuse the awkwardness. “I used to smoke,” she admitted after a moment, fingers playing with the celery in her drink.

The answer felt like it was ready before he’d even asked, rehearsed. “That it?”

She delicately sipped the drink, eyes watching Emily as she scrubbed down the bar. “Well, it was a pretty _simple guess_ after you accepted the pepper poppers so easily.” Another sip and she reached for the Tabasco bottle on the counter and tapped a few more drops into the tomato juice. “And _I’ve_ always liked spicy things, the burn in my throat reminds me of cigarettes, and it only got stronger when I quit. I figured it does the same for you.”

He didn’t mean to smile, but he let it happen because he enjoyed how _easy_ it came to him around her. “Marnie has never been able to get it, you know?” He took a heavy drink and waved Emily over, keenly aware of how Val stiffened out of the corner of his eye. Guilt welled up in his gut easily, but he ignored it, preferring to drown the feeling rather than confront it.

Val tapped her fingers on the bar as she watched Emily refill his mug, smiling warmly and accepting when she offered to refill her own drink. She replaced the new bloody mary in front of Val and left to pour Pam another drink. Once she was safely down the bar, Val took the Tabasco bottle again and poured more than a generous amount into her glass. The sight made Shane chuckle at the overkill, but she seemed to like it when she took a drink, a thin sheen of sweat beading on her forehead.

“Seems like _you_ get it,” he said, gesturing with his mug.

She smiled again, the look genuine with the flush in her cheeks. “Marnie and Jas seem like they’re more into sweets than anything.”

“Jas might as well be a dumpster for sugar.” He’d meant it to sound like a complaint, but his lips turned up at the corners fondly just at the thought of Jas. “She’s just like Marnie in that way.”

“Well, Jas did ask me when I was going to make cake again.”

“Has she been back to your farm?” he asked, gut dropping a bit that he hadn’t known.

Val nodded, idly sipping again. “A few times; she says that playing by herself can get boring sometimes.”

He chose to drink rather than say anything, Val noticing and nearly reaching a hand out before she stopped midway and seemed to reconsider. Distantly, he thought that maybe he’d like the comfort of another human, but it felt smothered by the fact that he was missing out on so much of Jas’ life.

Rather than address his sudden mood change, she changed the subject, talking about her plans to build a barn until he finally sucked it up and started responding again. It wasn’t perfect, the lingering guilt in his guts still eating him, but it was better. And he figured that was the point, the really _weird_ thing about how this summer was turning out. It was just better, overall.

They continued like that, the summer heat slowly swallowing him whole. The feeling of having something real to look forward to consumed him completely, made him worry and wish in ways he hadn’t for years. This was entirely different than the ways he worried for Jas; he wanted a good life for her, one where he wasn’t ruining himself and her in the process. The sticky summer walks down to the bar with Val were anything but, he noticed.

And god, did he notice. It was just a continuation of everything from the spring, his eyes picking out something new to notice and catalog. Her smile was crooked, the right side always pulled up a bit higher than the left. She always asked him how he was doing every time, even if his face gave an answer before she could say anything. Sometimes while they were walking she had to stop and catch her breath, holding her right side for a few moments before saying she was good to go, voice breathless. He realized she mirrored him whenever she smiled and they started to feel more genuine, coming easily if it meant she’d give him one back. During the morning he’d wake up with a headache and a strikingly hollow pang in his gut, but he chalked it up to just not drinking enough lately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fic has picked up a bit of traction, and to be honest it has more than I thought it would! Still, it feels weird from going from Dragon Age and Fallout fanfiction to a much smaller base like Stardew. I think I like it.
> 
> Anyway, I'd love some feedback! Things should be picking up in both length and intensity from here so stay tuned. Also, again, my general arts blog is [jellopunch](http://jellopunch.tumblr.com/) so stop on by


	4. Red Peppers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yeah… that.” He took a deep breath and played with the can a bit, conscious of how empty it was already. Something was burning in his guts, made him _want_ to be angry or throw something, be _loud._ But there was nothing, and it could’ve been from not drinking enough, or it could’ve been how pleasant it was in the cool summer evening with the fireflies just beginning to blink through the air.
> 
> “It’s like sometimes I just need to be alone and sometimes being alone just makes it worse, but I have no idea how to tell when it stops being _alone time_ and becomes me just brooding with myself.” He sighed and took another drink, disappointed when the can ran out too fast. Without thinking he reached for another and opened it, trying to drink away the embarrassment of confession.

On a whim, he decided to take the shortcut through Val’s farm. Though he didn’t think taking the “extremely, ridiculously long and trespassing way around” was _really_ a shortcut, sometimes he was okay with lying to himself like this.

It was later in the day, the sun hanging heavy in the late afternoon sky. It was peaceful enough for a Sunday, if not a little boring. Even if he was craving excitement though, the town was nice, and after taking Jas to Vincents for her sleepover, he felt distinctly calm. Maybe it was happiness at seeing her so excited for something or knowing that no matter what he did tonight, Jas wouldn’t be around to see it. The information was freeing an odd way; on a worse day, he might take the opportunity, but this wasn’t a bad day. It had been relatively good lately.

Val was standing across part of the river, on one of the smaller islands. Her floppy sun hat was doing a poor job at containing a few loose hairs that escaped her bun, the strands glimmering orange and red in the late afternoon sun. The sight of her probably shouldn’t have made him smile as hard as it did, but he figured it was something to do with the cool breeze and warm sun.

He waved as he approached, making sure she saw him before he crossed the bridge. She was standing there, a hoe stuck in the ground with a small set of clippers and a pail half-filled with blueberries on the dirt as she held her hands clasped on her sides. Coming closer, he heard her breathing deeply as if she’d just finished running and was trying to get everything under control. Everything added together, it looked almost like she was trying to hold her ribcage together.

“Hey,” was all he could think to say, feeling like he’d caught her at an unexpectedly vulnerable moment.

Her face was flushed and clearly exhausted, and the thick sheen of dirty sweat only added to the idea. The tired smile she gave him didn’t reach her eyes, her normally strong, raspy voice now distinctly breezy.

“It’s good to see you,” she said, voice lacking strength.

“Wish I could say the same.” He watched her pull her gloves off and wipe her face, a  few dirty streaks forming. “You look like shit.”

The laugh she gave was hollow and devolved into coughing quickly, her body bending a bit with the force of it. His hands hovered between reaching out to her for support or something, but he didn’t feel appropriate. The weakness her body showed scared him, more than he would’ve thought it would.

“Yeah,” she said after a minute, carefully stepping over the pruned rows of plants to get to her pack. “It’s the last harvest of the season and I’m killing myself trying to get it done.” A water bottle came out of the bag and she nearly finished it in one go, standing there with an arm holding her right side.

 _You’re distracting her, her job is more important than your loneliness._ “If this is a bad time, I can go—”

“No, no! It’s fine, I’m glad to see another human.” She gave a little laugh and it was a bit stronger this time. “I’m a little sick of vegetables to be honest.”

He looked at her for a moment, frowning in concern. Deciding it wasn’t his place to prod her, he just accepted it. “You’ve mentioned that Dixie missed me?”

“Yeah, she’s just been beside herself.” Her gloves were taken off and dropped near the pail and clippers. At least she had the energy to be an ass. Had to be a good sign. “Here, lemme show you were she is,” she said, gesturing for him to follow. He did so warily, not liking how hard she was breathing still. It didn’t seem healthy, but what did he know about what healthy looked like.

He watched, uncomfortably nervous as she wandered into the coop and gestured to Mavis, still sleeping by the window. Before he could comment on how fat the chicken had gotten, something clattered loudly. Looking, anxious surprise still spiking under his skin, he saw Val leaning heavily against the incubator and gasping. Quickly, she sank from leaning to squatting, her arms going back to her sides, the position looking like she was trying to hold her ribcage together.

“Hey, you alright?” The genuine concern in his own voice surprised him. Even more surprising was the sick nervous feeling in his guts at seeing her nearly doubled over and wheezing.

She didn’t answer right away, just rocked slightly on her heels as she focussed on breathing. It looked like she attempted to nod at him to put him at ease, but it just looked unnatural, distinctly _not_ okay. The sight started scaring him more and more, halfway to pulling out his phone and calling Harvey before she finally stood, her stance shakey.

“I’m good,” she said, though her voice was still breathless. Her right hand was still pressing on her ribcage. “Walked into the incubator and winded myself a little.” She gave a breezy laugh but she wasn’t smiling, not really. The flush on her face could be from heat exhaustion or embarrassment. It was probably a combination of both.

The confrontation with injury just made him regret coming, but he thought about what could happen if she passed out from heatstroke in her field.

“Why don’t I give you a hand with the rest of your stuff?” he asked, screaming at himself for even offering. _You’re too lazy to help her, what are you doing? You think you aren’t just gonna mess everything up? Go home and stop inflicting yourself on her._

Val was quiet, not looking at him for a second before she turned back, expression blank. “You don’t want to help, trust me.”

“I do,” he said, surprised that he actually meant it. “I mean, I don’t wanna be held responsible when they find you dead from heatstroke.”

She cracked a slight smile, face still tired but there was gratefulness in it. “If you really want to.” She looked around, almost like she was trying to find something to keep him occupied. “Could you help with the animals? I haven’t changed anything but their water and I haven’t had the time yet.”

 _Yes, I know how to do that; I can take care of animals._ “Sure, no problem. I can just meet you outside your house when I’m done?” For once he was grateful for all the summers he’d spent on the ranch as a boy.

She nodded and stepped back outside, almost like she was urgently trying to get away. When the coop door closed, he heard a wracking cough come from outside. The sound rendered him motionless until it ended, almost like it just froze him in time. _This_ was something he didn’t want to see. It was so easy to be impersonal when she wasn’t really a person in his head, but this was real, closer to life. It might’ve seemed more intimate than it actually was, but he felt like an intruder. Trying to put the feeling out of his head, he got to work in the coop.

There was something satisfying about working with his hands. In the back of his mind he knew it was the afterglow of exercise that lifted his mood, but it felt like more than that. He had never been a particularly charitable person, and while offering his help in the moment had made sense, it felt uncharacteristic to him. He was _lazy, grumpy, uncaring,_ but some small part of him had to be made out of something else because he’d been completely genuine in wanting to help.

The chicken coop took longer than it probably should’ve but he spent a fair amount of time holding Dixie while the hen cooed softly. She helped soothe his nerves a bit, even if she did try to untie his shoes after he finally put her down. The other birds started waddling in as the sun was setting outside, Shane moving from the coop to the silos quickly, not realising how much time he’d spent with the chickens. A quick trip back with a sack of feed and he was done, maybe spending a bit more time to pet the birds.

When he emerged from the coop, giddy and tired from the exertion of hoisting bales and shovels, he saw Val sitting on the bench on her porch next to a large tupperware. Eyes shut and head back, he almost thought she was sleeping before she perked up and waved to him. He hurried over, half-expecting to find out she’d succumbed to the heat and glad to see she was taking a rest.

“Thanks for the help,” she said, voice and smile genuine. He caught himself thinking it was too bright out for 8pm.

“Couldn’t leave you alone like that,” he said with a shrug. Not knowing what to do with his hands, he shoved them back into his pockets and rocked back on his heels, feeling flushed.

“Here,” she said, grabbing the tupperware and handing it to him. “For helping me. You didn’t have to.”

He took it and opened the top, exposing an obscene amount of peppers. “Uh…” Should he just take this? It felt like too much, _way_ too much; _this_ felt distinctly like taking advantage of her. “I just can’t take this, Val.”

Her mouth quirked into a frown, her hands on her hips. “If you want money instead, I have some.”

 _Take it you idiot._ “No, I’m good.” He closed it and handed it back to her, ears burning at the dejection on her face. “Just wanted to help.”

She just looked at him for a moment, expression still frustrated. It felt like he was being considered, her warm eyes seeming like they were expecting something.

“Well,” she started, still frowning a bit but there was the relief of being done with a task early back in her face. “Why don’t we just have them together? If you won’t take them as a present, have them with me.”

He swallowed thickly, _still_ not entirely sure why he stopped to help her in the first place. Without meaning to, he’d been there for hours and now he’d rejected free food. Maybe he was getting sick? “Sure, by the pier?” he said instead of asking her to knock some sense into him.

She nodded, smile bright and the bright, clear happiness on her face made him feel weak. “Give me an hour,” she said. “Meet me around nine?”

He agreed, head still screaming at him to say no. _You don’t want to do this, you want to be alone, you don’t have a lot of time left before work tomorrow. Stop giving your free time away!_ Saying he’d see her then, he forced himself not to turn and see if she was watching him. Uncomfortable, the feeling of knowing he’d be seeing her again and persistently sweaty palms plagued him until he heard her door shut behind him. Then, he finally let himself sigh in relief before his body just ramped him back up again.

He nearly sprinted back to the ranch, heart pounding in a way that wasn’t just exertion. Despite how tired he was and the dull ache in his limbs, he still felt so _awake,_ unspent anticipation just wanting to be released. It was a recognizable feeling from when he was a teen and he’d finished training, the same kind of energetic burn inside of him. Standing in his room dumbly and still trying to process what was going to happen, he didn’t know what to do.

 _Take a shower, you smell terrible._ He very nearly had a conversation with himself, debating whether or not taking a shower would be trying too hard. At _what_ he wasn’t sure, but everything felt so unreal. _Take a shower,_ he finally settled on. _She probably will._

He couldn’t argue with that, and the shower offered him some time to actually think. What was he freaking out about? She’d only invited him because he’d refused payment. _Why had you done that? It’s your day off and you worked for free, what kind of sucker are you?_

Evidently the kind that didn’t know how to take yes for an answer. The leftover peppers had been _free_ but all she did was give him stuff it felt like, and he had his limits. Kindness could only rub him so much before he had to put his foot down, feeling weird about using her. _You aren’t using her, she can give you whatever she wants._ He felt so frustrated at himself he felt like hitting something, but his muscles hurt too much for it. And even if his arms weren’t screaming, he didn’t want to get destructive; he could only take one ‘angry drunk’ cliche at a time.

Marnie had already gone out for the night, the place completely empty save the sounds that drifted in from the livestock. The only signs of life were the odd dishes stacked in the sink and the soft clucking of the hens. Shane just stood in the hallway between the kitchen and his room for a few minutes, trying to collect his scattered thoughts; the shower had helped but there was still the overwhelming fear inside of him.

 _It’s like you want to be unhappy,_ he thought to himself. His motions felt jerky as he picked what he was going to wear, a moment of clarity breaking through as he held up one of his Tunnelers jerseys and berated himself for even caring what he wore. _What does it matter what you look like? Since when do you even_ care _about that?_

Honestly, he _hadn’t_ cared more than past using it as another thing to hate himself for in a while. He usually never even had the energy to buy clothes, let alone pick out a deliberate outfit. The pressure now felt like he _had_ to do something, sweating him for no reason.

Trying to calm himself, he ended up having a beer, feeling better after the familiar burn hit his throat. The need for another came quickly after the first was down, but he squashed the desire, not wanting to be drunk in front of Val on the pier. Or worse, get hammered in his room again and stand her up.

With a curse, he remembered to check the time. He caught the time changing from 8:49 to 8:50 on his phone, scrambling to his door with the rest of the six pack under his arm. Looking out the door, though, he saw the pier was empty and almost felt relieved before the idea that she’d fallen asleep or decided not to come overcame it. Dejected, he forced himself to walk to the pier anyway, reasoning that if she didn’t show up by nine he could just go home and drink himself to sleep. Like his original plan.

However, even as the time ticked to nine then past, he didn’t get up. _Just leave, she isn’t coming_ accompanied the hollow feeling in his chest, his feet splashing a bit in the water as he tried to distract himself. _You’re going to pieces over being stood up; serves you right for thinking she’d come._ As much as he hated himself and that voice in the back of his head, he couldn’t deny that it was usually right. With a sigh, he reached for the remaining five cans he had and almost pulled one free before he heard Val call his name.

He wanted to kick himself for being so easily disappointed, pulling his hand away from the cans like they burned. As he watched her walking through the thin forest, his hands sweaty despite the cooler weather they’d been having, he noticed she’d changed out of the overalls he’d seen her in earlier. It was startling to see her in regular clothing and he couldn’t quite place why, so used to the shapeless farm clothes she always had on. She looked nice.

“Finally, you’re here,” he said as she stomped her way along the pier, tone prodding.

He still wasn’t totally clear why he’d agreed to come here with her, and reasoned that any more free peppers was reason enough, but that fell short the second he recalled turning down the peppers for helping her. Maybe this had been her plan all along; feign fatigue to get him to help her, then rope him into yet another personal encounter. Surprisingly, the idea of being alone with her had become more desirable and less horrible lately.

She grinned, pulling off her shoes and sitting down next to him, auburn hair loose and blowing slightly in the light breeze. “As if I’d miss it! You’d probably sulk for days if you got stood up.”

He just snorted, hating that she was right, and reached for the tub she’d brought, the last of the peppers sitting inside. Somehow, the knowledge that he’d helped her made them taste even better. “You know,” he said, taking a bite out of one and letting his eyes close. The burn was perfect. He swallowed and continued, watching her take her own and eat the entire thing in one bite. “You don’t look like someone who’d buy a farm.”

“I didn’t,” she shrugged, grabbing another pepper. “My grandfather left it for me, and I decided that I needed a change in scenery.”

“Bet this wasn’t what you were expecting?”

She shrugged again, splashing her feet in the water as she stared out at the lake. “It’s better, actually. The air is so much cleaner out here.”

“I’ve always liked the city,” he said, finishing his pepper and chewing thoughtfully. For the most part, he had fond memories of living near the city. Zuzu had been _exciting,_ gave him enough to keep him busy for a while, anyway. Life moved fast and it was easy to be impersonal; here, everyone knew your business. It got old quickly. “At least there was always something to do; it’s way more exciting than here.”

“It _was_ exciting, but it got to be too much for me. Everything in the city just made me feel like a cog in the machine. It was fine for a while, but, I think I want something more out of life than just another desk job.” The water lapped at their feet, Shane mimicking the way she’d kicked it.

He finished his pepper, chewing thoughtfully before tossing the top into the water. “What was your job?”

Surprisingly, she groaned. He turned to look at her and saw her rolling her eyes, a hand covering one side of her face in embarrassment. The sight made him smile, the action endearing. “That bad?” he asked.

“It was just a dumb job,” she said, shaking her head. With a sigh, she took another pepper and ate it in one go, talking around the mush in her mouth. “Like, it’s one no one thinks about until you hear it and go ‘oh, yeah I guess someone has to do it?’”

“Unless you’re about to tell me you were quality control or something, it can’t be that bad.” Another pepper and a small bite, Shane conscious of spraying red bits all over her as he spoke. “Because if you were, you gotta know the quality is terrible.”

That made her laugh, the sound pleasant. It was unabashedly loud, genuine in how she readily let it happen. “You aren’t that far off actually.” She wiped at her face, still smiling, and picked up another pepper. “I wrote product descriptions.”

It certainly wasn’t the first thing he’d think to guess, but he guessed someone _did_ have to do it. “Descriptions for _what?”_

“Just, like, stuff.” A shrug and a bite, crunchy and loud. “My most memorable achievement was writing the description for the new _Joja Blue_ soda.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely something to brag about.”

“I _said_ it was stupid,” she said, knocking him softly on the arm.

He couldn’t help smiling at the withering look she gave him, enjoying just how easy it was to talk to her. Especially when he wasn’t psyching himself out in his head. “Why didn’t you like it, though? It doesn’t sound awful.”

That made her face change, expression falling from playful exasperation to an odd unplaceable one. If he had to guess, he could try to place it as uncomfortable or pensive, but he’d gotten so terrible at reading people he didn’t think he’d be able to. Odder still, he found he missed the honest smile she’d had.

“I did like it,” she said slowly, choosing her words carefully. “I was actually pretty good at it too, but work just got to be too… impersonal.”

 _Doesn’t want to talk about it, got it._ He already felt like he’d gotten enough from her, like he didn’t actually _need_ to get anything, but she’d given it already. “Good thing you’re here then,” he started, words sounding like a grumble. “Towns’ so small everything is personal.”

The smile was back halfway on her face, pulling up the corners of her lips. “Actually, no one’s asked why I’m here here.”

“Yeah?” he asked, definitely surprised. When he’d slunk back here with Jas, pretty much everyone in the valley had known his business. It didn’t help that Marnie had loose lips when she was drinking, but just the proximity had been enough for more things.

Val nodded. “I guess they just assume I wanted the change, like my grandpa had.” The half-eaten pepper in her hands was finally finished, and she reached for another one, taking a big bite.

He stuffed a pepper into his mouth for want of something else to do in the half-awkward silence that had fallen. It wasn’t thick and it wasn’t uncomfortable, but it left him not knowing what to say. “Well, you seem like you’ve been doing pretty well here. Peppers are great.” He’d tacked that on at the end, realising he’d never complimented her. At all.

She wiggled her toes in the water, the little ripples it caused lapping against his legs. The act seemed like a filler, and it took her a moment before she answered him, taking another bite. “Yeah, I’ve been doing great here, actually, change in health aside. The lifestyle here is better for me.”

“Change in health?” he asked, mind sparking with scenarios as to what she could mean. The phrase was just vague enough to be undeterminable, but precise enough for him to know it was rehearsed.

The moment she paused chewing, Shane hated himself for going too far. It was too personal a question to ask, they weren’t that great of friends, he had no right to know—

“I had lung cancer,” she said simply, swallowing, seeming to deem him an appropriate person to confide in. The pepper crunched as she took a huge bite out of it.

Shame burned in his guts at being selfish enough to be relieved that she’d answered. Concern, however, grew right next to it after a moment. “Seriously?” he asked, surprised at both the confession and its content.

Val nodded, finishing the pepper and wiping away the sweat before starting another. It looked almost like she was trying to eat the memory away. “I was 26, went for a routine check up, and the doctor recommended I get a PETCT in my chest. Said it was probably nothing but given my mother and grandfather both died of lung cancer, he wanted to be sure.”

“How bad was it?” he blurted, embarrassed at his eagerness to know. In penance, he shoved an entire pepper into his mouth and pushed through the tears to focus on the burn.

“Are you writing a book?” she asked, mouth quirked to the side.

“As if you’re interesting enough to write a book about.” He was grateful for the joke, feeling less guilty for prying. It pulled a little smile out of him.

A smile twitched up on her face in response, the look making the palms of his hands sweat. “I guess you’re just not used to actually talking to people like they’re human. Can’t hold it against you.”

He gave her a withering look and she just grinned harder, hiding her mouth behind her hand like she didn’t want him to see too many of her teeth. The want to see more of her smile made his hand lift halfway, but he stopped himself, anxious of boundaries and the nagging thought at the back of his head that kept saying he didn’t even deserve the glimpse he’d seen. Val, however, didn’t seem to notice the alternating war of shame and self-hate happening inside of him and resumed talking.

“It wasn’t too bad. Which is weird to say about _cancer_ , but after a year I was as fine as I was gonna get. The doctors said I was lucky the cancer never spread outside my lung and lymph nodes, but they showed me a picture of the part of my lung they’d taken out and it was like. Just this mess of flesh. It’s weird to think I have this big empty hole in my chest now.” She took a pepper and munched it thoughtfully, feet splashing in the water. Shane glanced down and saw she’d actually painted her toenails. They were red.

“Did your hair, like—” he made a motion with his hand that he hoped conveyed _falling out_ without him having to actually say it. Saying it aloud would make it feel too real, make it feel like more of a confession than just a simple discussion.

“Mhm,” she said around the pepper. “And my eyebrows. And my eyelashes. And all of the fucking hair on my body. It was nice not having to shave my legs, I guess.”

Another attempt to make the subject lighter, but Shane had the feeling him asking was just making her remember what was probably the scariest time in her life. That was the hardest guilty feeling he’d gotten all night, and he finally reached for the six pack he’d brought.

She turned her head when he snapped the top open, silently watching with what felt like judgement as he took a heavy drink. The guilt made the beer taste bad.

But, she didn’t say anything about it. Instead, she turned a pepper around in her hands before she placed a hand on his thigh. Oh, if the shame and guilt felt bad, this felt nearly a _thousand_ times worse. If he’d had more liquor in his system, he would’ve puked and he almost wanted that. Maybe that would help the uncomfortable way his heart had picked up speed and the wriggling, disgustingly embarrassed feeling in his guts. Painfully aware of her hand on his thigh, he focussed on finishing his beer and stopping his hands from shaking. Didn’t help dull his mind though, and if he was good at anything it was jumping to conclusions.

_Is she trying to console you? Holy shit, you’re a fucking idiot, acting like her telling you her problems makes you need consolation. What do you think you’re doing? Pathetic, disgusting, finish the beer and grab another. You definitely need another drink._

He couldn’t argue with that. Crushing the dead can, he reached for another but was stopped from opening it when Val gave his leg a squeeze and pulled her hand back. Against his better judgement and desire to not care for her, he turned.

She’d already pulled her feet out of the lake and was wiggling her toes and patting them, attempting to dry them a bit before what he could only assume was putting her socks back on. Disappointment that he’d ruined the night with surly silence and alcohol burned in his stomach right along with the beer and peppers. He needed an antacid.

“You doing okay, Shane?” she asked and he hated the concern for him in her voice.

“Fine, don’t know why you’re askin’,” he mumbled gruffly. His thumb traced the top of the new beer, fingers aching to pop the tab.

“Just—I don’t want to make things uncomfortable.” She cleared her throat. “I like to think we’re friends, though. And… it kinda felt nice to tell you. No one else knows.”

He was quiet for a moment, almost confused at hearing her calling them friends. Looking back, he guessed they were, if in some weird twist of events. All the peppers, veggies, and even lately it’d been eggs, were endearing. He was pathetic for allowing himself to get soft for presents, but as much as he hated himself, it didn’t stop her from being right. Her words finished sinking in.

“You haven’t told anyone else?”

“Nope, and no one’s asked.” She grabbed her feet and brushed off some of the dirt that clung to them. “My little secret. Or, I guess it’s ours now.”

Feeling she might appreciate a joke and not caring at how stupid he’d feel, he said, “The point of a secret is to not tell anyone. You’re pretty bad at this.”

“You’re right,” she said with a fake sigh. “I guess I’m gonna have to kill you now to preserve it.”

Shane grinned at his success, loving the way her mouth perked up at the corners. “As if you could take me, farm girl.”

Val laughed a little. “Do you know how hard farming is? Or mining, or swinging a sword? Shane, I could probably bench you if I wanted to.”

In all honesty, that probably made him more flustered that it should’ve. Embarrassed at the way his heart was beating his ribs, he flushed and thumbed the can some more, the cool water against his toes a welcome contrast to the humid air. “I don’t think so, I weigh like 200 pounds.”

“Really?”

“Did you think I was _fatter_ or something?”

“No, it just kinda seems like more than I guessed.”

He rolled his eyes, embarrassment gone and replaced with just a little more self-loathing. There was definitely some extra weight around his middle after so many years of beer, pizza, and lack of exercise, but trying to do anything about it would be admitting to the problem. It was easier to lament the 30 pound gain instead of trying to get rid of it. Being a fat, pathetic idiot was just the icing on the cake of his life.

Val seemed to sense the awkwardness of the situation again, noticed him falling down that hole of self-loathing and nudged him with her shoulder. “Wanna see the scar?”

He snorted. “Since when are you this friendly?”

“Haven’t you ever admitted something to someone before? No matter what it’s about, it’s addicting.”

In a way, she was right. If telling him more made her feel better, he could damn his own feelings, if only for now, just to prolong the encounter. “Fine, show me.”

The morbid curiosity in him gave way when he saw the actual scar. In was thin, surgical and precise. Her tan skin was cut along under her arm between her ribs in a long pink line, the scar looking less scary than he’d thought it would. Honestly, he wasn’t sure _what_ he’d thought it would look like. Large and knotted? An ugly warping of her skin? Either of those would be preferable, as just looking at the shiny scar made his fingers itch to touch it and find out its texture.

His choice was made for him as she grabbed his hand, hovering half between touching her and getting shoved back into his pocket, and urged him to feel it.

 _No going back now,_ he thought, relieved to be free of the decision. Uncomfortable and hot, his fingers felt cold against her warm skin. The scar itself was smooth and slightly raised, feeling almost plastic. His thumb traced it and he swallowed thickly, wishing he had the courage to either stop or keep going, wishing he wasn’t such an indecisive piece of trash.

“Freaky feeling, huh?” she asked.

He jumped, hand recoiling for a second before he poked at the scar again. She let out a little laugh, clearly ticklish or sensitive around the new skin. Either way, it was an endearing sound. “Yeah.” Pulling his hand away almost felt hard, the contrasting feeling of both of her skins still tingling on his fingertips. “You said you used to smoke, right?”

She let her shirt fall back into place. “You can imagine why I quit now.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” he mumbled, hands already toying with the beer can again for want of something better to do. Absently, he popped it open and started on it.

“What about you?” she asked. A few fireflies flitted by, their appearance startling him. Since when had it gotten so late?

“I don’t smoke.” It was a deflection and he hoped she’d take it.

Her shoulder bumped his, her tone surprisingly light for what she was asking. “You know what I mean.”

He did. “I’m here because Marnie was lonely and Jas needed a real parent.”

The awkward silence satisfied him, hoping it was enough to get her to stop asking. However, she either didn’t understand the bounds of basic human conversation, or she was intent on wringing him dry.

“Jas told me about what happened.” He peered at her and saw her looking out at the water, knees still pulled against her chest. The look in her eyes was distinctly absent. “To be honest, I thought she was your daughter for, like, three months.”

“She _is_ my daughter.” He made a face and drank so he wouldn’t have to answer right away, irked at the way saying it hurt his stomach. “I mean, she _feels_ like she is. I’ve had her for a while.”

Val didn’t answer, just nodded a bit. Half of him was glad she hadn’t decided to press further, but the other part wanted her to know more about him. Maybe not _this part_ but he felt like he had to give her something. He looked at her faraway face and bumped her shoulder the way she’d just done to him. “Something interesting?”

She started a little then smiled sheepishly. “Just thinking. Remember when we found you on the floor a couple weeks ago?”

He grimaced, can halfway to his face. “Hard to forget,” he mumbled, finishing it off and contemplating crushing it.

“What happened?”

In some twisted way, he’d gotten his wish. She hadn’t pursued asking about Jas, but she’d moved onto what might’ve not been a more painful topic, but was infinitely more shameful. Even now, though the rationale behind drinking himself into oblivion had been perfectly clear at the time, retrospect always made sure he felt like an idiot for overdoing it.

“Bad day.” It was all he could think so say. Without much thought, he opened another beer and swallowed nearly half at once, body aching for the release that came with it.

Val was looking at him, he could tell, and it almost felt like he was being sweat in an interrogation. What did he have to say? It had just been a bad day, he was lucky it had only lasted a week or so. He was lucky he’d had a good week before it. He was lucky it hadn’t happened again yet.

Still, with the way she was looking at him and the feeling like he owed her an explanation, he figured he could give her something.

“Sometimes it just… gets to be too much,” he admitted, feeling ridiculous for the emotional vulnerability. It was a horrible feeling, terrible, awful and wretched. He almost wanted to puke so it’d go away, but he hadn’t had enough to drink to do that.

“That hole you’re trying to climb out of?” The way she said it made him think he was supposed to know what she was talking about. After a sip, he remembered talking to her on this pier three months before, and the conversation they’d had. Had it really been that long?

“Yeah… that.” He took a deep breath and played with the can a bit, conscious of how empty it was already. Something was burning in his guts, made him _want_ to be angry or throw something, be _loud._ But there was nothing, and it could’ve been from not drinking enough, or it could’ve been how pleasant it was in the cool summer evening with the fireflies just beginning to blink through the air.

“It’s like sometimes I just need to be alone and sometimes being alone just makes it worse, but I have no idea how to tell when it stops being _alone time_ and becomes me just brooding with myself.” He sighed and took another drink, disappointed when the can ran out too fast. Without thinking he reached for another and opened it, trying to drink away the embarrassment of confession.

“That’s your fourth,” she pointed out, tone a weird form of smug.

 _Fifth._ He took a hard gulp that felt more like spite than anything. “You keeping track?”

 _“You_ don’t seem to be.”

“I’m an adult,” he said, irate. “The whole idea is that I don’t _have to.”_

“I’m just trying to express a little concern, Shane.” It was a tight sentence, her tone clipped. Shame welled up in his gut, and if he’d been four more beers down the line he could’ve just puked it up and been done with it. Trying to hide the way his face burned, he turned away.

“Don’t know why you’re trying,” he mumbled around the lip of the can.

She was still staring at him uncomfortably out of the corner of his eye, gaze uninterrupted. “Don’t know why you’re fighting,” she said back, the reply succinct and heavy.

It was an oddly cutting thing to say, unexpected and like a slap in its frankness. Why _was_ he fighting back? Was he so in love with his own unhappiness that he had to rebuke every single offer of friendship or interaction? _Why can’t you just learn to act human for once?_

“Yeah,” he said, finishing the can and standing it up next to the others. There was one full one left. “I’m not sure either.”

He hated the awkward silence that fell yet relished in her not knowing what to say. It almost seemed like she always had something smart ready to go, and he was sure if he hadn’t agreed, she had a retort at bat. It felt a little like a victory, albeit one that came at the cost of admitting he was a reckless, stubborn idiot.

As if to punctuate his small hate session, Val yawned. It couldn’t have been more than an hour or so since they’d sat down, but he hadn’t given much thought to the idea that she was still _tired._ Selfish shame welled up at keeping her out so late, but he couldn’t bring himself to say he regretted it. It had been fun, and it felt like he had something on her now. She felt less like an enigma and more like a person, someone living and breathing and not just a fly that followed him to the bar from work.

 _It’s not fair to call her a fly. If anything,_ you _annoy_ her.

“Hey,” he found himself asking as she stretched. “Do you… wanna do this again sometime?”

Her mouth quirked into a smile, its usual crooked. “I don’t think I’m gonna be getting more peppers anytime soon.”

He managed to roll his eyes despite the little upturn to his mouth. “I mean hang out… _Sometime_. You could text me when you want to.”

Hesitantly, he felt her hand on his thigh again and though he knew it was too dark for her to see his blush, it didn’t make enduring it any easier. “If you’d like to,” she said and he couldn’t help noticing the way her voice had shifted from playful to something a bit _closer_.

“Yeah.” He swallowed thickly. _Get your shit together, idiot._ “Just whenever.”

Her hand came away and he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “What about the jellyfish thing next week?”

“Moonlight Jellies?” He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, wondering why she’d suggested it. A thousand things ran through his mind, but he clamped down on it. _You’re overthinking it, she’s never even seen it before._ “If you think you can stay up so late past your bedtime, sure.”

She huffed and smacked his arm, but ultimately confirmed she’d go to it. Distantly, through the mounting panic in his head that he’d made plans, he managed a small smile for her, enjoying how she still mirrored it.

They walked together until they reached the junction between the properties and parted, Shane feeling fulfilled like he had when Jas had asked to sleep in his room. It was a warm feeling in his gut, and as he watched her walk back to her farm, he figured he was happy. He’d needed that good day.

The week passed in this new kind of normalcy from there, Val walking him to the bar at night and him returning home alone. That detail felt important to him, surprised at how empty he felt whenever he walked into the ranch by himself, Jas and Marnie already asleep. The walk back had always been sobering, but he wasn’t prepared for the depressed, heavy feeling of being truly alone to hit him so hard when he stepped through the front door. The bar had become louder, brighter to him, and the dark quiet in his room just drove home how tired he was of being alone.

Well, not really being alone. It was the _loneliness_ that really got to him.

The saturday the jellies were supposed to pass by, he managed to wait until noon before he got over himself and just went to see Val at her farm. She was in the middle of tilling for fall, smiling at him brightly and not nearly as breathless as he was worried she’d be. Without even thinking, he offered to help her again and she readily accepted. He didn’t even care that his muscles were screaming after a few hours, it felt good to feel like he was being productive and not just wasting his time off.

“Wow,” Val said after everything had been finished. She was standing next to him on her porch and looking out at the fresh farm. “We’re done already.”

He looked up at her from his place on the bench where he’d collapsed, dying for something to drink. “Great, because I think this is the end for me.”

She rolled her eyes but still went inside, the storm door clattering behind her. It only took her a few minutes to come out with two water bottles, the plastic already beading with sweat.

“Here,” she said, dropping one into his hands and plopping down next to him. “Big baby.”

Too busy opening the bottle and swallowing as much as possible to retort, Shane barely noticed the jab. It might’ve been the best thing he’d ever tasted, but even as he thought it he got a hard craving for a beer. Leaning his head back, he groaned, skull suddenly aching behind his eyes.

She nudged him, a small laugh bubbling out. “You’re such a drama queen.”

“I don’t know how you can handle working all day,” he whined, sitting back up and finishing the water bottle. “I have _both_ my lungs and it’s killing me.”

She laughed, giving him another crooked grin and he couldn’t help smiling back, at least a little. He was a more than a little relieved he’d said the right thing, hoping he understood her sense of humor enough to not get yelled at. _She doesn’t seem like the type to yell, though. Unlike yourself._

There was a moment of silence while he frowned at himself and she just sighed, looking out at the heavy red sun. “You know,” she started, tapping her fingers on the edge of the bench. She seemed pensive. “Are we friends, Shane?”

He turned and just stared at her, confused by the bizarre question. It almost sounded like a challenge, like she was testing him or something. “Do you think I’d do free manual labor for just anybody?” _Fuck, we’re friends._ He wasn’t sure why it surprised him so much to confirm it.

She rolled her eyes but seemed satisfied with the answer. A few more seconds passed, Shane more focussed on trying to reclaim some lost strength while she seemed happy to just sit there in the evening light. Absently, he noticed her breathing pattern was longer and deeper than it should’ve been. In retrospect, maybe he should’ve noticed something was up with her, but who notices something like that? _If you weren’t such a dumbass, maybe you would’ve._

“There are a few hours left before we have to get down by the beach,” she said suddenly as she stood. The outburst made him jump, heart pounding a bit as she urged him to stand too. “Why don’t you go take a nap or something so you don’t pass out in the sand.”

 _Ideally, I’d do it in the water,_ he thought grimly, still unable to keep those little nagging thoughts away. “Yeah,” he said instead. He rubbed at his eyes and stretched, arms aching. “Probably a good idea.”

She pushed him off to go home, saying she’d be by at nine to get him. There was concern in her voice, like she was worried he’d pushed himself too far. While he was loathe to admit facing how out of shape he was hadn’t been the best, it was the burning need for a drink that got to him. So he said he’d take a nap to placate her, but he knew what he’d do when he got home.

It took two beers to feel better, the burn helping numb him a bit and completely banishing the headache. It helped him enough for him to realise how hungry he was, and after two _more_ and a pizza, he felt enough like himself to actually remember to be anxious for the night.

A shower didn’t help and neither did trying to watch TV. It just felt like he was waiting for the inevitable. He even contemplated telling her he felt too sick to go, but the thought of lying made him feel ashamed. Of everything he appreciated about her, her honesty had to be paramount. It almost made him want to reflect it.

By the time 9 came he’d managed to work through and knock out at least 12 excuses. He was so lost in his own thoughts he didn’t even notice the first knock on the door. The second, much more forceful one startled him enough for him to realize it might be time to go.

Val was behind the door, lopsided smile flashing at him. At the sight of her, he could barely remember what he’d been nervous about, the anticipation of doing something always convincing him that everything was worse than it was. There was something about seeing her there, fresh and _excited_ to see him, that made his heart pound. She said he looked nice, and had it come from anyone else, he would thought she was mocking him. But she wasn’t, and he told her she did too.

 _Maybe I’ll trip and drown,_ he thought as she tugged him along to the beach. He was already embarrassed enough to drop dead, the icing on the cake being that he’d admitted he noticed the way she dressed. _She’s gonna think you’re creepy, she might as well find out now._

The beach was already lit when they got there, the comforting blue glow easing him from his previous attack. There was always something so mystifying about the event; it could’ve been the water, or the feeling of being on the beach at night, or the crisp bite the air had to it as it blew summer away, but whatever it was it affected everyone, himself included. It felt like he just _fit_ here, mind finally quiet enough for him to truly have some peace. He lead Val to the docks in time for Mayor Lewis to announce that they’d be starting,  his attention turned towards the slowly-encroaching mass of shivering blue light.

The jellies fluttered under the water, graceful and luminescent. It was a beautiful scene, the understanding of their life cycle nearly taking Shane’s breath away. They lived in the constant ebb and flow of life, continuing on no matter what. He admired that kind of determination, wondering what he could do with that kind of strength. Turning to Val and hoping to make a comment that she’d think was smart, or at least laugh at, he found her staring wondrously at the jellies.

Her face was under lit in the blue light, shivering shadows being cast across her face and in that moment, Shane found himself breathless looking at her. Saying something didn’t feel appropriate anymore, but he wished he had the courage to at least try, maybe tell her how nice she looked in the eerie light. This time without the shame.

However, instead of saying anything, he just watched as she turned to look at him, a genuine smile on her genuine face, her hand coming to brush against his. His own opened, letting her twine their fingers together and give him a squeeze. He blushed and turned back to the ocean, grateful for the blue night hiding it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! This is the first chapter I ever wrote, actually. The one that started it all, if you will. It's also twice as long as I'd meant it to be. Oops. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Let me know how you liked it! Or didn't; I take all forms of criticism.


	5. Plum Pudding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Val greeted him at the farm, bright smile soothing the burning desire for a drink a bit. It was nice, wide and shining and crooked, a beautiful compliment to the way the setting sun pulled all the red from her hair. The genuine look of happiness to see him was apparent and he found he _needed_ that kind of approval. So many people looked at him with pity or disdain that he'd just gotten used to it; the comfortable warmth of approval eased him in more ways than he could count.

The night watching the jellies float past the coast would stick in his memory for much longer than he could think something would. It might’ve been too serene to last, the scene something out of those slice-of-life soaps he sometimes watched when he couldn’t sleep at night. The beach had been cold; cool enough to make him almost regret wearing his shorts, but he’d barely noticed the growing goosebumps on his legs in the face of the warm, tentative contact of Val’s hand on his.

The high from that night carried into the next week, his head feeling like he was still asleep whenever he woke up. It was a good feeling, a clear feeling despite how unreal everything felt. As spaced out as he was, he enjoyed the fog; not having to deal with angry, intrusive thoughts berating him constantly was a reprieve he didn’t even know he could have. Even as it started to fade a bit and he came back more to himself, felt that hole growing around him just a bit more, he clung to that feeling. When it left completely in the middle of September, he tried his best to be the easy-going man he wanted to be, but it was clear to everyone around him that he was back to being a downer. Noticing the shift in his family’s disposition towards him stung more than the loss of his peace of mind did.

Val was the only person who wasn’t any different, and somehow it only felt  _ worse. _

Her hand in his at the pier had been surprising and god knows he’d been trying to unpack it for a while. It had been so long since he’d felt anything other than anger or crippling disappointment he’d just started to accept that this was just the way he  _ was. _ As a child, any excitement he’d ever felt quickly become a memory of how it’d been: the vibrating limbs, unstoppable smiles, the hungry need inside of him for whatever he was anticipating. All of it had felt like the past and when he grew into his teens he found the easiest way to chase that kind of real genuine emotion at a party his brother had dragged him too after they’d both made varsity.

Drinking didn’t…  _ make _ him feel anything, it just felt like it made room for more. There was less of himself around to ruin everything, his personality pushed to the side to let someone else out. Friends had called him Party Shane back in high school, and it had been fun until it wasn’t. At some point a habit becomes a problem, and then a dependency, but it never really feels like there’s another option. Being aware of your own problem just makes it feel worse when you can’t stop it.

“Beer doesn’t even do the job properly,” Val had commented one night at the bar. The sentiment wasn’t lost on him, but having it said straight to his face made something ugly turn over inside of him.

It was the second Friday of September, the tail end of the high from the Moonlight Jellies. Perhaps he drank more that night than he had been, but he had to find a way to stuff the old him down for just a little bit longer. He hadn’t shown up yet, stayed down as he continued to visit Val’s farm on the weekends and help her, as he played princesses with Jas, or when he said yes when Marnie had asked him for help on the ranch. He wanted to stay that Shane  _ so badly _ , but even seven beers had a hard time keeping him down for too long.

“It  _ does it, _ though,” he muttered, not looking at her he finished his mug, already thinking about an eighth. She hadn’t specified what she meant, but he got the feeling she knew.

She took a sip of her bloody mary, finger tapping the side of the glass. “A few more than usual. Something up?”

_ Was _ something up? He wasn’t even sure how to tell; it just felt like he was eroding away. “Just more tired than usual.” He flagged Emily down and requested another pint.

“You been sleeping okay?” she asked with genuine concern, leaning towards him a bit.

He swallowed thickly and tried to ignore the way her leg brushed against his under the table, hating how sweaty it made him feel. “I’ve never really  _ slept okay.” _ Distinctly aware of the way things were starting to blur around the edges, he cleared his throat and looked towards where the jukebox was rattling out a song that sat just on the edge of his hearing. Emily placed the mug down next to him and leaned her elbows on the bar, considering him.

“Something’s been eating you lately, Shane,” she said matter of factly, brown eyes trained on him.

Val just sipped her drink, clearly seeming to enjoy the help. The look on her face made him frown, eyes flicking back to Emily. “I’ve just been  _ tired.” _ It wasn’t a lie, really. He was always tired, in more ways than one.

She looked at him a bit longer, a small knowing look on her face before she straightened and collected his old mug. “You know yourself best, don’t forget that.”

He breathed a sigh of relief and started on the new mug while Val just watched her go. He held a smug sort of satisfaction that she looked surprised that Emily hadn’t pressed further, realizing that subtlety and boundaries weren’t her thing the more time he spent with her. Out of everything they’d done together, he could hardly remember her asking before she did something. Sometimes the push was good, had him doing things he never would. Sometimes, he just didn’t want to talk about it.

After a few minutes of drinking in silence, she told him he didn’t have to keep coming over on the weekends if it was making him tired. Just the suggestion that his awful personality was her fault increased the guilt ten-fold. Telling her that helping on the weekends felt like the only thing that stopped him from tossing himself off the cliffs seemed maybe too personal, but it didn’t even feel wrong to think. He had nothing to look forward to during the week except getting blackout drunk and trying to both talk himself in and out of suicide.  _ Thinking that felt weird. _

“No, no I’m good,” he said quickly.  _ Too quickly, you’re overeager and drunk. _ He swallowed the rest of his mug and wiped his mouth on his sleeve, trying not to burp. “I should probably get goin’ now anyway, you don’t want me passing out in your corn field or somethin’.”

She cracked a smile, right side pulling up a bit further like always. “You’d probably make pretty good corn food, if that makes you feel any better.”

He stood, letting her grab his arm to pull herself up. “Is it weird that it does?”

“Nah.” She gave his arm a squeeze and held it, shouldering her bag with her free one. “Sometimes when I feel dizzy in the fields I think “at least I’ll be good fertilizer!””

A happy smile twisted on his face, eyebrows knitting together are her joke. “Weirdly dark for you, huh?”

“I like to think it’s the perfect amount.” She hadn’t let go of his arm, and was instead now holding it with both of her hands.

Still sober enough to walk properly, even with her hanging on him, he rationalized that maybe she just wanted the extra support. Or the body warmth, the September air having chilled considerably quickly. Whatever the reason was, he found himself comforted by the little touch. It was a gentle reminder that he had a physical body and wasn’t just some ghoul trudging through life. Her raspy laugh and warm hands made the walk short and easy, his skin tingling under his hoodie where her fingers were wrapped around him.

They stopped at her door and she gave him a small hug before going inside and leaving him in the brisk night. He was stiff for the entire ordeal, but he just let it happen. It was hard to tell if he even liked it, feeling shame and embarrassment at  _ more _ physical contact but his mind kept replaying it over and over. Once again, he berated himself for being so lonely.

By the time he was home it was almost midnight, the air holding the kind of chill he’d expect from later in the season, but had become common lately. Out of concern he wished he didn’t feel, he checked to make sure the animals were okay before dipping inside. Briefly, the want to check in on Jas overtook him but the chance of disturbing her felt wrong, mind too fuzzy to be silent.

Still, he pressed his ear to the door for a few moments to hear the soft sound of her noise machine. Dim, gentle light bled out from under the doorway from her nightlight, a small smile twitching up on his face as he thought about her. She’d always said the shimmering pink light and bird chirps kept the monsters away.

His own room was dark, especially in comparison. It lacked the vibrancy he wished he had, hating that he just preferred things to be duller. It made it easier to accept when he couldn’t keep it clean or his shit together. Muddy footprints, dirty clothes, a console he never used though he used to love playing games, and an overstuffed armchair that needed a washing; it was a depressing thing to come home to.

“Should lift again,” he mumbled to himself, giving the stray 10lb weight on the floor a light kick.

_ You’re too lazy, besides you’re nowhere near where you used to be. _ Not in the mood to fight with himself and feeling the full weight of the episode that had been building all week, he sat on the floor against his bed and pulled out a case from underneath. He barely had the energy to pull one free, let alone go for a cold one from the fridge. Drinking the lukewarm beer also felt like a penance for not being about to stop.  _ Can’t keep your shit together? You get shit beer. _

It ended up just getting later and later, the night dragging on until it was dangerously close to being morning and he wasn’t even sure  _ why _ he did it. What did he have to be drinking about? Why couldn’t he control himself, get his shit together, stop feeling like garbage all of the time?  _ Stop making your own problems, you’re the only reason you’re this way. _

He couldn’t argue with that, and he slept right through his alarm, only waking up when his door was slammed open. Groggy and hungover, he rolled over in his sweaty sheets and watched blearily as a tall, fuzzy orange figure stood looming over his bed.

“Val?” he asked, voice croaky and confused. “Why’re you here?”

She just stood there, looking at him with a blank expression. “It’s almost 3 pm.”

Still in a haze and not quite comprehending what she was saying, he tried to look at his phone to confirm the time. “It’s Saturday…” he started, voice trailing off as he tried to get his blurry eyes to focus on the screen.

They barely came into view and he heard her huff, her face looking an odd mixed of disappointed and upset when he turned towards her. She didn’t say anything, instead just glancing away and sighing.

“I missed coming over,” he said, gears finally clicking in his head. His guts felt hollow and twisted at the look on her face, the turn of her lips looking distinctly like he’d disappointed her more than she’d thought he could.

“Yeah.” Her voice was shakier than he felt it should’ve been, lacking the firmness her words always held. It was a finite sound, shame seeping up his back at hearing it. Then, she made a point of clearly glancing around his room at all the discarded beer cans. “Guess you overslept.”

He made a face, hating how easily she was able to get under his skin and hating how just the little suggestion cut so hard. “Yeah, I was… tired,” he said lamely. With a sigh, he ran a hand over his face and through his hair, trying to ignore what he was thinking.  _ She sees you’re still in your clothes, you smell like beer and sweat, you look disgusting, you couldn’t even stop yourself, you’re weak, useless, an idiot— _

“I can come over now?” he offered quickly, wanting more than anything in that moment to feel like he hadn’t fucked up something he didn’t know he could.

“Everything’s done already, Shane.” If anything, she just sounded tired. The usual straight posture in her shoulders was gone, replaced by an almost familiar looking slump.

He chewed on his lip a bit, knowing that it was more than just missing out on helping with the animals. It was a broken promise and a disappointment, the act of not showing up making him seem uncaring.  _ Selfish, idiotic, drunk. _ “I could just…” He trailed off, unsure of what to even suggest he could do; he knew how useless he was.

“No, It’s fine,” she said quickly. There was the hurt again in her face before she sighed and rubbed her eyes. “You’re tired.” She was smiling now, the look slight, but it didn’t seem  _ right. _ The authentic looks she had were all scrunched up on her face, painstakingly real in how natural they seemed. This smile didn’t reach her eyes, and it was even on both sides. It seemed almost sad.

“Maybe tomorrow then?” he said weakly, suddenly desperate for any kind of permission into her life.

“Yeah,” she said, clearing her throat. “Yeah maybe tomorrow. If you aren’t too tired again.”

It was an  _ almost  _ mean thing to say, but it didn’t feel wrong coming from her. She’d always seemed a little rough around the edges, and the insinuation of his addiction nearly knocked the wind out of him. There really was nothing to say; his mind had nothing to give him, and in the face of his silence, she left. The awkwardness in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife and he hate hate  _ hated _ himself in those moments. Hated how he’d let his life come to this, with another person to disappoint. Hated how he cared enough to want to be better. Hated how he  _ knew _ he couldn’t.

The day slogged on, Jas asking him if he wanted to play princesses with her, but he wasn’t even in the mood to humor her entirely. There was nothing  _ left _ in his guts it almost felt like. One little fuck up had ruined the mood he could have, ruined the entire mindframe for the day. It was tiring to be so over himself and everything he had in him. Seeing the light at the top of the hole had become so hard as of late, the constant yanking between feeling human and feeling like a stuffed mannequin just draining him completely. One day being happy to spend time with his niece and the next he would do anything to just die in a way that meant he didn’t have to do it himself.

He woke up almost comically early the next day. It was nearly 6am when he started awake, body tense and mind frantic that it was already Monday. Seeing how early it was didn’t make him feel much better, but at least he wasn’t at risk of oversleeping again. And as much as he’d rather just lie back down and go back to sleep, the panic that he’d disappoint Val again kept him too keyed up to make sleep possible.

Even eating breakfast wasn’t that satisfying, his appetite either suffering from the lack of sleep or nerves in his gut, and he left the scrambled eggs half-finished in the sink. Berating himself for not even being able to eat properly, he forced himself to shower, not entirely sure why he was even bothering. Something in the back of his head said he just wanted to look presentable, and some other part was fighting the idea that he could ever manage to look even remotely put together. Eventually he had to get out, wishing yet again the grip stickers on the bottom of the tub would finally just wear off.

By the time he left the house it was almost 8, the sun now shining coldly through the few trees it managed to bleed through. The chill in the air nearly froze the end of his damp hair, his teeth chattering in response to the light breeze that picked up. Shorts might have not been his best idea.

When he crossed the boundary between the forest and her farm, he immediately saw a few chickens bobbing in and out of the cornfield that took up most of an island. A white and brown one, and he clearly recognized them as Belle and Gladys. In the water the ducks were diving and bobbing, Shane noticing with a bit of surprise that Val had netted off a small part of the river so they didn’t get washed away. He stood and stared at them for longer than he meant to, subconsciously knowing that he was putting off finding Val.

He was forced to face her, though, when she pushed her way through the cornfield, clearly frazzled.

She stopped in her tracks, the chickens’  _ bok _ ing getting fainter as they spirited away. The look she had on said she hadn’t been expecting him and not much else. It was almost blank, a look he  _ starting _ recognize she had on when she was mad.

Hesitantly, he raised a hand and waved, uncomfortably aware of how he shouldn’t be here.  _ Or maybe it’s fine, she said I could come over. But you know that was just her being nice, you disappointed her and you could tell she was angry at you for oversleeping. Probably thinks you don’t care, and you don’t, do you? You only care about yourself, you stupid, selfish—  _

Clearing his throat and frowning, trying to ignore his thoughts, he figured saying something was better than nothing, but what could he say?

“So…” he started, finding himself at a loss for words. He scratched at his neck and looked out at the red coop roof across the river. “How’ve you been feeling?”

“Fine.” Her voice was flat, a mirror of her face.

He was silent for a moment before sighing, resigned to her disappointment. “Look, I’m sorry about yesterday. I didn’t mean to sleep so late, and I feel like shit for pissing you off.”

It felt ridiculous to be saying this over the river, practically having to shout it over the water, but it was good to say. The instant gratification of apologizing was apparent, even if he still wasn’t sure if he should be feeling absolved. To even think of apologizing was a feat in and of itself, but actually  _ feeling _ enough to do it was worlds further than where he normally was.

A bit of something flashed in her face, her eyes averting to look at the ducks in the water. It looked like some sort of minor guilt, but it was hard to tell on her.

“Did you drink yesterday?” she asked, turning to look right at him. Her voice was solid, firm, surprisingly not angry.

“Yes,” he admitted. It was better to just be direct, be honest. “Only a couple, but yeah.”

She chewed on her bottom lip and considered the ducks again, like she was mulling something over. He hoped to god she didn’t tell him to leave, but he wouldn’t blame her if she did. If he knew anything about who he was, he knew that no one wanted to be around a drunk.

“I need help with the chickens today, then.” She gestured for him to come join her in the cornfield, not smiling but not angry either.

He sighed with relief, a weight he hadn’t realized had been there coming loose. “What’s up with them?” he asked as he jogged the short distance from him to the bridge.

“Belle and Gladys attacked Dixie last night,” she said, sighing. “They’re all fine, but I wanna trim their claws and stuff so they don’t hurt her again.”

He agreed to help, but asked to see Dixie first. Val took him to where she’d set up a little makeshift pen in her kitchen, the chicken squawking loudly as soon as Shane banged in through the doors. The squawking dimmed to quiet little  _ boks _ when he picked her up and held her, stroking her lovingly and checking her wounds. They weren’t bad and there weren’t many, but there were definitely signs of a struggle. A few blood-stained feathers and feet that had clearly been pecked at where really all there was. Experience with the birds told him they were mostly superficial, but that same experience said it could easily escalate to cannibalism if left unchecked.

He managed to help her rustle up the chickens, finding they were much more aggressive that he’d pegged them for initially. Trying to clip their nails or file their beaks clearly proved harder than Val had intended, Shane offering to do it when she accidentally clipped just the slightest bit too far up Belle’s third talon. There wasn’t blood, but it was clearly too close to the quick to be comfortable. He’d been enlisted to help with the chickens by marnie more times that he could count, quickly clipping the nails cleanly before gently scraping the very point of the beaks so they weren’t so sharp.

After proving himself useful, he felt like he could actually get back to some semblance of normal here. Val didn’t bring up his drinking again, clearly deciding she didn’t want to listen to his excuses, but there was no malice in the absence. She just  _ didn’t _ talk about it, and maybe he was self-absorbed for thinking she would’ve. Sometimes he felt like he was barely hanging on by a thread, this small acceptance from Val in letting him stay the day with her on the farm keeping him grounded just a little bit more.

It was an easy day, she was  _ easy _ to be around. Everything felt tiring, boring, too much and yet not enough. But she was noncommittal, personal and impersonal. She chatted about the stable she almost had finished when he asked about the half constructed building by her house. He answered readily when she asked how his work was going. Hell, she even  _ listened _ when he complained, seeming like she genuinely cared. Honest and real, she brought out parts of him he’d never really noticed before.

Going home and just continuing with his week was a weird kind of difficult. It was almost like time stood still on her farm, the chattering bugs and rush of the river wiping the hours away completely. He almost wished he could stay, but that was a dangerous thought. To think he had a place there was painfully embarrassing and wishful; he was destined to slog through his days until he was ground into nothing. He shouldn’t  _ want _ to inflict himself on Val like that.

Then, that thursday, Jas woke up with a fever. That  _ inflicting _ feeling was back again when she practically begged him to stay home with her, but yet again, he had  _ work _ . The conflicting interests in him practically tore him in half.  _ You’re a terrible father, you can’t even stay at home and look after her when she’s sick. _ It was a thought he had often, and it was only validated by how unwilling he was to miss work and risk getting fired. Not to mention he didn’t feel… like he  _ should  _ be spending so much time with Jas. She shouldn’t rely on him, didn’t deserve to have him  _ inflicted  _ on her, he’d just let her down, he’d  _ already  _ let her down so much.

The rational thought that Morris would just be that one step closer to firing him if he took off was there too, but if there was ever an opportunity to make himself feel like shit, this was definitely it. Rationality never really had a place in the deeper parts of his mind, the ones responsible for driving him to the bluffs and staring down. Those were the parts that knew how weak he was, how much of a coward he was, just how  _ enough _ he wasn’t.

So he went to work, the anger in him bubbling to a higher point than he could remember it being before the past few months. It was thick and hard, made anything he did frustrating and difficult. A knocked over display took twice as long to fix, his hands not cooperating and each fuck up just adding onto the personal failure. As it neared the end of the day, the only consolation he had was that maybe he could finally get drunk enough to remove himself from the equation.

A few minutes before close, apron already halfway off, his phone buzzed. Any other circumstance and he would’ve ignored it, figuring it was some kind of spam. But since he’d actually allowed Val to message him, he found he actually cared to check. Shrugging the apron off entirely with that stupid little hat, he opened the message.

_ Can’t make it to bar tonight, come over instead? _

He frowned at the screen, more disappointed than he should’ve been that he was denied a drink. The thought to just blow her off and go anyway passed through his head, but he shoved it away quickly; the guilt might just finish him off if he ignored both Jas  _ and _ her today.

_ Sure _ .

Even if he walked more slowly that he probably would have normally, he still made it. Halfway there he stood and stared longingly at the Stardrop, but for once he managed to have willpower. The whole day, week, month,  _ life _ had been compounding on him more and more until all he wanted was a drink, but he’d fucked up enough today, he could wait until he got home for a damn beer.

Val greeted him at the farm, bright smile soothing the burning desire for a drink a bit. It was nice, wide and shining and crooked, a beautiful compliment to the way the setting sun pulled all the red from her hair. The genuine look of happiness to see him was apparent and he found he  _ needed _ that kind of approval. So many people looked at him with pity or disdain that he’d just gotten used to it; the comfortable warmth of approval eased him in more ways than he could count.

“Here,” she said, grabbing his hand and pulling him along towards her new stable. “I have something to show you.”

He raised an eyebrow, letting himself get tugged. “Is it a horse?”

The door creaked a bit as she opened it, the scent of freshly exposed maple wood wafting out. Val still had the smile on her face, excited and proud. “I have no idea what would make you think  _ that.” _

“Lucky guess.” His voice was a little breezy, the inside of the stable feeling just the slightest bit unreal.

There was a tall horse standing in the single stall, her white mane contrasting against her blue-gray coat. It was a beautiful creature, Shane having been around animals long enough to appreciate when he saw one that was clearly good stock.

He let out a low whistle, following Val as she approached the animal. The horse looked at her warily but didn’t rear, clearly still deciding if she was a friend or not. She allowed her to put her hand on her face, didn’t flinch or panic as she ran it along her neck. Without removing her hand, Val produced a large carrot from the pocket of her overalls.

“Here,” she said, offering it to him. “Take it and give it to her.”

He took it, looking at it dumbly for a second before offering it to the horse. She started munching it loudly, pulling a large part free and chewing while Val pulled out a brush and started grooming her neck.

Watching the horse grab another bite, he reached and gently pet the diamond on her forehead. “So, what’s her name?”

“Lacey.” She gave her a little pat and scratched behind an ear. “She’s a blue roan Marnie managed to find for me.”

“Damn pretty horse,” he said quietly. Turning a bit to see Val smiling softly at her new animal, he couldn’t help smiling a little bit too. “How’d you decide on the name?”

She shrugged and put the brush back in her pocket, her hand moving from the horse’s neck and tracing around to her back. “I actually asked Jas what she thought would be good.”

A small, involuntary smile cropped up. “Ah. Yeah, it sounds like something she’d suggest.” His hand lowered a bit, the carrot falling away from her mouth and she huffed at him. “She’s gonna be beggin’ you to see her.”

“I said she could,” she said, gently rubbing the horse affectionately. “But it’s up to you; you’re her dad.”

_ I  _ am _ her dad, _ he thought dimly, feeling oddly detached from the situation. He swallowed thickly and resumed giving Lacey her carrot, smile gone. “I’ll see if she wants to, when she’s feeling better.”

She seemed to take that, humming quietly while she pet the horse, only stopping when he ran out of carrot for her to devour. That bright smile flashed on her face again and he had no choice but to accept when she invited him to stay for dinner. It melted some part of him, made him feel like he couldn’t say no. Maybe he was just too easy.

The night ended up dragging on longer than he’d meant to, the loud river and chirping insects cutting the silence that would normally be heavy in the air. He found he liked it, even if it was just the same sounds he heard by the ranch. Spending it with Val made it feel less boring, content to just sit on her porch with her while she brought out some leftovers she heated up for dinner. It was nice, easy, strikingly domestic. Macadamia lied across his feet, the dog clearly happy to just solicit pets while Val watched with an odd look on her face.

It wasn’t an emotion he could totally place, the way her eyes held his hands as they buried in the dog’s fur neither heavy nor light. If anything, it was a look of contemplative contentedness, a compliment to the way she leaned her head on his shoulder for a brief moment or rested one of her hands on his thigh. It was close, a fond touch that made his throat just the slightest bit tight. From anyone else in any other scenario, he wouldn’t been the most uncomfortable he’d been. But in that moment, it was  _ good _ , his chest telling him he was lucky to have a friend.

He still went home and cracked open three beers, but it was  _ fine. _ He had a bit of a grip, it wasn’t so bad. Jas asking him to watch a movie with her helped, finding he didn’t really care if he got sick. Having her there in his lap, comforting and immediate, it all  _ helped. _ He should’ve stayed home from work.

When it got too late and she’d fallen asleep in his lap, he carried her to bed and made sure to turn on her noise machine. The warm, comfortable feeling stayed with him even when he climbed into his own bed, propping him up a bit as he tried to fall asleep. It wasn’t  _ perfect _ , he couldn’t escape who he was, but it was good enough.

That weekend, as expected, Jas asked to be brought along. Her fever had passed by Friday morning, but the guilt of leaving her alone the day before stopped him from making her go to school. Shane was as bit hesitant to bring her, feeling like he shouldn’t drag her along in case anything  _ happened _ but he didn’t even know what he was afraid of.  _ Your own temper, maybe? You can tell it’s coming, don’t be an idiot and just tell her no; you don’t want her around when you fuck up and finally lose it. _

She’d apparently seen Val pick up her horse from Marnie and had begged him to go and see her. The disgusting feeling that something big was coming, was about to hit  _ hard _ gave him all of the hesitation without any of the rationality. There was that terrible sense of foreboding that made his guts feel like snakes, the coiling and writhing feeling compounding onto unplaceable shame and guilt until he was nothing but a sweaty mess of doubt and self hate.

But he’d said yes because he was weak when it came to her.

Val was ready and waiting by the time they got there, grooming Lacy in the mid afternoon air. Just the sight of her relaxed him so much; Shane finding solace in her patchwork plaid scarf and just picturing the pink tinge her cheeks had from the biting air. There was a certain kind of comfort he didn’t know he could feel in a scenario like this, Jas happily skipping to keep up with his pace while Val was just going about her life, waiting for him. That ever present feeling of loneliness hollowed out his guts again, now more than ever.

Once they were clearly within earshot, Jas started calling out to her.

“Miss Val!” she yelled, one hand by her mouth and the other waving to get her attention.

Val just turned and smiled, Shane right about the blush from the cold. “Hey!” she called back. “Ready to break this bad boy in?”

Jas nearly ran the rest of the way, breathless when she came to a stop by Val. If Shane was being honest with himself, the brisk walk he had to pull to keep up with her winded him a bit too. “You said the horse was a she,” Jas said with the air of innocent confusion.

Val’s mouth scrunched a little in embarrassment, and Shane just chuckled at it. “You’re right, but the saying doesn’t go that way” she said, pulling a bag of apple slices out of the front pocket of her overalls. Handing them to Jas, she gestured to Lacey. “Go on, try feeding her.”

She didn’t need to be told twice, nearly ripping the little plastic bag in her excitement to get the slices out. As she fed them one by one to Lacey, the horse delicately taking them out of her hand and munching them while Jas squealed, Shane was content to just stand there with Val and watch. Sneaking a peak at her face, he saw warm admiration and care in her face, the same loving look he could picture himself making when he’d watch Jas play with her dolls or ask to watch a movie with him. It was sweet, innocent, so  _ nice, _ and he couldn’t help himself reaching for her hand.

Luckily, she took it readily and squeezed it gently. The hollow loneliness in his guts abated a bit in the presence of the easy touch.

It only took a few minutes for Jas to feed all the apple slices to Lacey, and when she was finished she turned towards the two of them and practically begged to ride her. Shane lifted her onto the horse, holding her steady while they situated her. Just the grin alone on her face warmed his heart, the chill in the air not mattering so much to see her so excited. Her slightly frostbitten cheeks were bright and made her eyes crinkle, little body practically vibrating in anticipation. It was wholesome, completely  _ right _ in the most base sense, and as he peered behind her to see Val hitching the saddle, he felt at peace. This was something good to experience, the taste of a life and feeling he desperately wanted.

Val peered up from the buckles around the stirrups and caught his eye, giving him a cheeky smile and a loaded  _ look _ before she ran a hand along the horse’s side and tapped Jas on the leg. “Ready?” she asked, mischievous glint in her eyes.

Jasmine nodded excitedly, wringing the reins in her hands. With the go, Val grabbed the front of the lead and gently tugged the horse, coaxing her into a walk. At the movement, Jas let out a squeal of delight. The sense of innocent wonder her face always had was something Shane would admit to being jealous of, wishing he could manage to have that kind of pure excitement for life again. Seeing her so happy, though, was enough for then.

They took her around the farm, Lacy holding a brisk trot that soon outpaced Shane until he had to retire to the porch to ease the stitch in his side. To his surprise, Val managed to keep up well until she mounted the horse behind Jas and took her for a faster ride. The pealing laughter from his niece mingled with Val’s throaty laugh, Shane once again feeling that pang that  _ this _ was something he wanted. It was like nostalgia for something that had never happened, but he missed it desperately anyway.

By the time Val brought the horse back to the front of the house, the sun was hanging a low, heavy orange in the sky. It had to have been nearly 6pm, the long purpling shadows from the surrounding forest gripping at their feet. It was a peaceful scene, comforting in how easy it was. Even as Val helped Jas dismount and juggled the squirming kid for a few moments, she managed a look at Shane. Her bright, crooked smile grew quickly, and he couldn’t help but smile back, body again aching and telling him he  _ wanted _ something like this. For more than just now.

“I think you have a pro equestrian on your hands,” she said breathlessly, depositing Jas on the ground by the porch.

He held his arms out and scooped her up as she flew into them. “We might have to remember to tell Marnie that,” he said, squeezing her tight enough to make her laugh again. Her dress ruffled in the wind as he swayed her a bit, just wanting to hold onto this feeling if peace a bit longer.

Val crept up on his right, Lacey’s reigns still clutched in one hand. Her other laid lightly on his arm, a gentle squeeze making him feel the warm outline of her palm. “I’m gonna put her away, be right back.”

He hobbled to turn and watch her go, Jas keeping herself firmly dangling around his neck. Dimly, he realized how late it must've gotten; the purpling air had a bite to it, the stiff breeze skittering the freshly dropped leaves across the ground. It all just added atmosphere to the scene, Shane watching as Val lead the horse into her stall, pat her affectionately, then locked it.

Halfway to walking back to him, she froze and looked back towards her house.

“Wait here!” she said almost breathlessly as she took off in a sprint towards her house.

Confused, he just watched her go. When the storm door rattled shut behind her, he waddled to her stoop and pried Jas free, setting her down gently on the ground next to himself. Distantly, something that sounded like a fridge as veing rattled around inside.being opened and slammed drifted out.

“Are you two hungry?” ValVal called, voice echoing out of the open storm door.

Jas pursed her lips and tilted her head, Shane smiling at the look. “No, I’m having dinner soon!” she called back. Shuffling a little from foot to foot, she peered around the railing into the house. “Aunt Marnie will be mad if I don’t eat it.”

There was the distinct sound of the fridge closing and Shane rubbed his hand down his face, not looking forward to dragging another pink cake home right now. After a few more moments, Val came out of the door in a rush. Another large tupperware was clutched in her hands, the contents a muddy purple.

“That’s a shame,” she said with an affected sigh. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do with all this pudding then!”

Jas gasped, clearly recognizing what she was holding before Shane did. Her stance shifted into excited, practically bouncing as she breathlessly asked if she could have it.

Val nodded and handed it to her, Shane confused at the whole exchange until Jas popped the lid open and the familiar smell of plums and sugar hit him. As exciting as the night had been, he could tell just from the look on his niece’s face that she was ready to get home and eat it. So they said goodbye to Val, Jas still thanking her profusely and Shane promising to be back tomorrow. There was the lingering longing in the hug he gave her before they left, and he carried that with him as Jas chattered excitedly the entire way home.

Marnie wasn’t home by the time they returned, Shane assuming she was already at the Stardrop or Lewis’ house. Grateful they weren’t  _ here _ , he relented easily when Jas pleaded to let her have the pudding for dinner. So he sat there watching affectionately as she nearly drove herself into an excited frenzy about the prospect of getting to have dessert for dinner.

“You know, Jazzy, you don’t have to eat the  _ whole _ thing tonight.” He watched as she piled the pudding high into a bowl, his eyebrows raising incredulously.

“I’m not,” she said simply. The ratio of pudding in and out of the tupperware begged to differ, though.

“Don’t you think it’ll be nice to have some for a few days?” he pointed out.  _ Who are you to lecture her on eating? _ Surprisingly, the thought didn’t make him feel too guilty. If anything, it made him smile a little when she drove the first bite into her mouth and almost squealed with how excited she was.

“Nope!” she said around the mouthful of pudding. “I’m good eating it now.”

He snorted and stood, ruffling her hair as he passed her on the way to the fridge. “Am  _ I _ allowed to have any?”

She eyed him warily and pulled the bowl closer to herself, stance protective as she took another bite. “You don’t even like it,” she said, the words muffled.

“I  _ never _ said that.” He peered inside the fridge and shrugged, not hungry enough to justify eating anything, and closed it. “I just always let you have it.”

She huffed and reluctantly let him try, and he was pleasantly surprised by how well Val had gotten it. It had the homemade taste and feel to it, and the effort showed. Ultimately, it was good; better than he thought it’d be, though it was still a little too sweet for his tastes. By the time Jas leaned back, clearly tired from eating so fast, there was a little more than half of it left. It was cute the way she rubbed her tummy in  clear discomfort from overeating. Judging from the look on her face, it was time for sleep.

After everything had been cleaned up, Shane noting how much more productive he felt than usual, he sent Jas off to bed. She gave a few weak protests but after all of the excitement she’d had that day, sleep seemed to be rapidly approaching her. The kitchen felt quiet, the only noise coming from the ventilation and the steady dripping of the dishes in the drying rack. The silence felt louder than it probably was, the kitchen feeling so much bigger than normal.

Suddenly alone with himself, he didn’t know what to do. Out of habit he reached for a beer out of the fridge and popped it open, ignoring the burbling guilt. In the back of his mind he could’ve swore he could taste the disappointment from everyone at drinking, but he was so far down the road he didn’t know what to do with himself anymore. That ever-present feeling of hopeless helplessness compounded on the aching longing he’d felt earlier at the Abernathy Farm. If anything it was just another reason to drink, both for the feeling of want and the feeling of being so easy. He didn’t  _ want _ to be,  _ shouldn’t _ be wanting more than he already had or feel like he had the right to desire it, but there he was, drinking himself because he couldn’t get himself under control.

Three cans went down by the time he scraped himself up and went to bed, knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep and that he’d be dead tired tomorrow. In fact, the fear of oversleeping kept him awake, not wanting a repeat of Val’s disappointed face. None of it made sense to him, why either of them cared about the other, yet there he was. In the back of his mind as he laid down, he knew he cared much more than his usual, in all manners of speaking. Something about how long and yet fast everything had felt bit down on his consciousness and refused to let go. Maybe it was just the season getting to him, but something felt like it was… coming. The inescapable dread in his guts made it feel like nothing about this was meant to last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey sorry this took so long! i moved three times and started a new job since I last posted, plus my life has been really crazy with my family. if you're curious, ask me on tumblr if not thats cool, i just wanna make it clear that I fully intend to keep going with this fic and that I love writing it.
> 
> That being said, this was going to be about twice the length before i finally cut it into two. it was getting ridiculous to be honest andi found this chapter to be extremely difficult to write. but here we are! hope you like it!


	6. Spaghetti

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seeing her putz around inside of her house was so different than everything else had been in public. He got a chance to see the little things he’d noticed expanded upon. It wasn’t just the orange in her cherry wood hair; he saw how she checked her face every time she passed by the big mirror in her living room, how she idly rested her hand over the crescent scar on her chest, how she felt the edge of her fingernail with her thumb when she was concentrating on something. It was that she always avoided stepping on the edge of her rug, and that she clearly favored her left side when carrying something, and that she hummed something familiar and wordless when she was distracted. It all felt too intimate to see, like he was intruding on something he shouldn’t be. Like a fly on the wall spying at her life, he was half expecting her to finally spot him and swat him away.

The weeks passed in an odd kind of twilight. It was like something was coming and it turned his guts into knots, the creeping end of September putting him in an awful state of mind. Those moments of duty on the weekends helped stabilize him, helped keep him grounded. The disappointment in Val’s face from the week before was enough to make him never want to see it again, the  _ adultness _ of having someone expect something from him like that keeping him sane in and of itself.

Everything was a weird, ugly mix of being better and worse at the same time. He drank more than he should’ve at night but he still relished the time he had with Val. The high of being the kind of person Jas would be proud to call a parent was still coursing through him, left him listening at her door as she slept when he got home, or readily accepting her plea to sleep in his room when her night light bulb went out. They were two separate parts of his life that worked together so well, he found himself wishing he could have something  _ else _ when he found it difficult to sleep at night. Tossing and turning to endless flashbacks of personal failures had turned to a wish for something better, more than he had now. They were fantasies and hope that felt vain, but they kept him going.

So he felt a little disappointed when Jas excitedly asked that Saturday morning if she could spend the weekend with Vincent, but he was giddy that she’d deferred to  _ his _ judgement. He was her dad, parental figure, uncle; he was the one to come to with these questions. That thought alone still felt weird rolling around in his head even after so many years, but it was good. He was a failure in so many other ways, he couldn’t bear to completely fail with Jas too.

The absolute vibrating joy on her face when he said yes wiped away any discontent that he couldn’t find that feeling he’d had last week again this time. She was happy, and that was really all that mattered to him in that moment, and for so many others. So often she was the brightest part of his life, a consistency that he lived for, a piece of something that kept him grounded in reality.

And when he was walking to the Abernathy Farm after depositing her with Jodie, he finally got to see Val again. Lately, she’d been filling in the gaps he’d forced in his life. Like rubber cement, she’d completely seeped in and stuck to him.

After clearing the forest by the bus stop, he saw her standing in the narrow fields in front of her house. It wasn’t even noon but she looked like she’d already been out for hours, chestnut hair glimmering a dim red in the cool morning light. Even pulled back and admittedly clearly sweaty, it was a calming thing to see. So distinctly her, unlike anything he could remember seeing.

He called out to her, waving. “Already up and at ‘em?”

She jumped a bit and turned to see him, the same lopsided smile breaking out on her face. “Early bird gets the worm, I guess!”

He couldn’t help but smile, walking the short distance to where she was standing in the middle of her beets. “How early are birds out anyway?”

“Fuck if I know,” she half muttered with a shrug. “They aren’t awake yet when I get out here.”

“Keeping all the worms to yourself then, huh?”

It was a stupid thing to say and he started berating himself the second it left his mouth, but surprisingly she just laughed. The kind of laugh he was starting to love from her, the one from deep inside her chest that sounded like it caught on her teeth. It was almost like coughing and it would’ve been weird on anyone else, but it fit her perfectly.

She was still smiling at him, starting to stretch. “No Jas today?” she asked, wiping a gloved hand across her forehead.

He shook his head and held his hands out, palm side up. “Nope, you’re stuck with just me.”

“Oh  _ bummer,” _ she said in faux disappointment, dragging the word out. “I was looking forward to riding with her again.”

“Well if it makes you feel better, you only lost to Vincent,” he offered. “Otherwise you’re all she talks about sometimes; she really likes you.”

“I really like her too,” she said brushing her gloves off. “She reminds me of what I always thought a little sister would be like.”

“No siblings?” he asked.

Val shrugged and stuffed her gloves in the front pocket of the overalls. “Nope, just me and my dad. You?”

He froze, hating how stiff the simple question made him. She even seemed to realize her slip, eyes widening and hands fiddling with the stray hairs that escaped her bun.

“No,” he said, clearing his throat. The new stable was particularly interesting, Lacey just grazing in the patchy grass next to Val’s house. “Don’t have any.”   
  


“Well, who needs ‘em anyway?” she said with a nervous laugh. As if seeming to register again what she’d said, she covered her face with her hands and sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

He sighed through his nose and shrugged, taking her apology and wishing he could just make the bad mood it’d brought go away. “I know. It’s fine.”

A hand touched his shoulder and he flinched, not expecting the contact. Val was next to him, amber eyes sure and non judgemental. “I won’t ask, and the chickens have missed you.”

He cocked a half smile, grateful for the direction and acceptance. He knew  _ she _ knew, and that he knew she knew. As ridiculous as that was to think, and to avoid the subject entirely, he appreciated not being asked about it. She was one of the few people who didn’t seem to feel entitled to the information. Deep down, there was an immature part of him that relished in the mystery it might present and he hated himself with a passion for even thinking it.

Still, he found solace in the chicken coop. The gentle clucking of the hens always set him straight, helped him focus on the now instead of stewing in his own head. This work felt worthwhile and meaningful, so completely unlike his job at Joja that he was amazed that he could even make it through the day there. There wasn’t even a point in comparing the two; here he felt useful and needed, and there he could feel himself being drained more and more each day.

The coop didn’t take too long to clean and organize, and by the end of it he was just sitting on the floor and watching Dixie untie his shoelaces. Belle and Gladys still managed to seem haughty for chickens, and Mavis was sitting in her usual spot by the window. It was all so simple, and he picked Dixie up when she tried to follow him out of the coop into the early evening air.

He spotted Val splitting logs beside her house and waved with his free hand. She waved back and even from this far away he could see her smile, knew the way it tugged on her freckles. Without even meaning to he smiled back and trekked over, the hen in his arms clucking softly.

“Interesting purse,” Val said when he met her by her porch, raising an eyebrow at the way he was holding Dixie.

“Thanks,” he said, shuffling her a bit in his arms. “It’s new. Very exclusive.”

She chuckled, reaching to gently pet the hen’s head. “It’s a cute one, I’ll give you that.”

He sat down the bench on her porch and shuffled her again, the both of them looking at the way she instantly nested into his lap. “It’s weird to think these used to be dinosaurs,” he said as he settled in on petting her. Dixie’s head drooped a bit as her eyes closed, clearly content.

“They still are,” Val commented. She sat down next to him and rubbed the bird’s head a bit. “I saw Mavis kill a mouse and eat it the other day.”

_ “Mavis _ actually moved?”

Val grinned, bumping him a bit with her shoulder. “Only for food. You and her have that in common.”

He huffed with indignation and moved to get up, shifting Dixie in his arms so he could hold her. As he got up, he knocked over the watering can and stumbled over it, feet clumsy as his shoes soaked from the half-full can. In the fray, he managed to stumble off of her small porch and land in the bushes at the base, nearly tossing Dixie in a frantic panic as he went down.

The base of the bush hit him bluntly on the spine, his back spasming in pain as he tried to twist himself free. With a groan, he resigned himself to the pain and embarrassment, still a bit shocked to have even fallen in the first place. He looked up at Val, ears burning as he gingerly tried to pick himself up.

Her mouth was open slightly, seemingly at a loss for words. Then she cleared her throat and quirked a small apologetic smile. “At least I don’t have rose bushes.”

The thought to say something came to mind, but as he twisted in an attempt to free himself, a notch on his back froze him in place, then his ankle joined. They screamed at him, reduced him to just a shivering mess as the bush tried to hold him in. A few burs stuck him and the spiny base of the bush was jabbing him, Shane finding himself nearly completely incapacitated.

Val hopped down and helped free him, looking like she was waffling between genuine concern and laughter from the absurdity of his situation. After untangling him with another apology, she held his arm as he tried to shuffle inside, ankle and back screaming with each step until he was just tottering in pain when she released him onto her couch. As he tried to find the least painful position to settle into, he began to notice he was actually inside of her house. Awkward embarrassment rose up with the pain, made him close his eyes and sigh as he tried to collect himself. Distantly, he heard Val close the door and her heavy footsteps on the creaky floorboards.

“Yoba, I think I’m dying,” he groaned after a few minutes, opening his eyes and finally relaxing a little through the pain.

Val sat perched on the arm of the couch, face incredulous. “All you did was slip on a wet floorboard.”

“Yeah, but I’m too old to take a fall like that.” He adjusted himself slightly on the cushions, hissing in pain as his back spasmed. 

“You’re 31, Shane.”

“Exactly, I’m old,” he mumbled, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Took too many hits in high school and now my back’s fucked.”

He felt her get up and walk away, the floor creaking as she left. He tried to peer after her, but was swiftly punished for thinking he would be allowed to move at all. Electing to just lie there in pain and feeling like he was at her mercy, he called after her.

“Where’d you go?”

“I’m getting you something so you’ll stop bitching!” Her voice sounded far away and echoey. He heard a creak as something shut that he assumed to be her medicine cabinet.

“I’m in agony and you’re mocking me,” he whined when she came back in. He meant to come off as funny but it sounded more like a weak complaint.

“You bet I am.” She put down a tub of something, a rolled bandage and two pills, got a bottle of water from the fridge, and returned. “Take the pills and gimme your foot.”

He took the pills willingly with some flares of pain, but eyed her staring at him expectantly warily. “What’re you gonna do to me?” he asked suspiciously.

“I’m gonna finish the job that puddle started.” She nudged him a bit with her thigh. “C’mon, do it, I promise it’s just gonna help.”

He stuck his foot out and winced as she pulled his sneaker and shoe off. The embarrassment of her peeling his sock off was overshadowed by the swelling pain and bruising from his rolled ankle, but it could’ve been worse. She didn’t even make a face at the smell, or the damp feel of what he assumed his foot was. The bandage did steady him a bit, kind of like she was taping him back together.

“All of this over a watering can,” he muttered, hiding his face behind a hand. He couldn’t even move for fear of his back flaring again.

Her hands were surprisingly gentle as she clipped the bandage closed, eyes looking a bit mischievous. “You’re definitely much lighter on your feet than I thought you were.”

He huffed again, too hurt to be amused and was just embarrassed. She chuckled, throaty and low, such a unique sound to her. “Flip over,” she said, standing up.

“Why?” He made a face and crossed his arms over his chest, acutely aware of his heavy, bare foot.

To coax him, she nudged his leg with her own, raspy laugh bubbling up again. “I’m gonna help your back.” As if for good measure, she nudged him again and tacked a “big baby” onto the end.

As badly as his back hurt, he at least trusted her enough to not kill him. Or make it worse.

He flipped with trouble, body freezing and shaking halfway through as his back spasmed again. Clearly seeing how much pain he was in, Val helped him the rest of the way and even pulled his sweater off. That set off some warning bells in his head, and what part of him that wasn’t occupied with the uncomfortableness of being without his jacket was busy being embarrassed at Val seeing him in only his ratty Tunnelers jersey.

“You only own four articles of clothing, I swear,” she muttered. He couldn’t turn to see her, but he could hear her opening the tub and scooping something out of it. An overwhelming minty smell overtook him.

He coughed but was only rewarded with another muscle spasm. “What is that?” he wheezed, nose wrinkling.

“It’s menthol cream,” she said as she pushed his shirt up and glopped some onto his lower back. He shivered at the sensation, surprised at how it managed to feel hot and cold at the same time. “I thought you were a big gridball guy in high school. You never used this?”

His only response was a grunt, face pressed firmly into the cushion and arm of the couch. He heard her laugh as her fingers massaged the cream into his lower back, right where he’d twisted it in the fall. It was an interesting mix of embarrassment, pain, and anxiety that flowed through him, making him feel almost sick. This had to be the worst way for her to see him shirtless and it was only his back. He hated how doughy he looked right then, feeling fat and clumsy and out of place. She was probably disgusted with him and how easily her hands could press into his skin. If the force she was exterting into him was any indicator, she was having to fight to find the muscles he was complaining about.

Plus, it really fucking hurt.

By the time she proclaimed that she was finished, Shane was wishing the couch would just open up and swallow him already. His shirt was still pushed up and he didn’t bother moving to fix it, back still feeling overheated from the cream.

“You alright, big guy?” she asked, gently nudging him with her knee.

He just groaned in response, back feeling better but the rest of him feeling infinitely worse. Half of him wished she’d given him some warning or at least  _ asked, _ but as far as he’d seen, asking wasn’t really her thing.

“You’re fine.” He heard her walk away, the soft padding of her feet making a rhythm in his head. When had she taken her shoes off? “Unless I broke your back even more, in which case I’m sorry.”

The sink was turned on, Shane chancing turning his head to see what she was doing. Finding himself pain free, he relaxed a bit and sighed. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

She was washing her hands, taking only a short bit before she shook them dry and opened the fridge. “Great! Do you think you’re staying for dinner?”

He swallowed thickly and turned around completely so he was face up on the couch. Nothing felt especially painful, and he  _ could _ just go if he wanted to. As if realising he was inside of her house all at once again, his gut plummeted.  _ Don’t be so fucking weird, _ he said to himself, trying to supress the uncomfortable feeling of intrusiveness.  _ You’re just in her house, just go, don’t make it weird. _

“Sure,”  he found himself saying instead of the vehement refusal he should’ve.

A jar of something came out of the fridge and was placed on the counter. “Great!” she said, reaching up into one of the top cabinets. “Spaghetti okay?”

Shane just turned and stared at the ceiling, feeling a bit more fried than he probably should’ve. “S’fine.”

Her small sounds of movement stopped and he heard her turn, gently placing what sounded like a half-empty box of pasta on the counter. “You okay?”

He blinked, trying to shove down the sensation that he was  _ not _ okay.  _ You have absolutely no reason to feel like this, grow up and tell her you have to go. Just go before she makes you leave. _ “Yeah, I’m good.” Already forgetting the pain he’d been in, he sat up and only winced slightly, ankle protesting much more at being moved than his back had. “Just gotta use the bathroom.”

She peered at him for a moment, hand loosely holding a box of ziti on the counter. “It’s in my room. Through that door.” Her free hand pointed, face flatter than it should’ve been.

Shane just nodded and hobbled up as fast as he could, ignoring the flair of pain. The thought that he was now going into her  _ room _ hit him as soon as he’d already shut the door to it, but it was surprisingly okay. As he looked around, it felt less like an invasion of privacy and more like just through pictures. It was on the messy side with a bed, two side tables, a dresser, and a vanity. A laptop sat half open on it.

The door to the bathroom was just across the relatively narrow room. Not sure what his plan even was, he decided he might as well use it if not to crawl out the window in an attempt to escape then to just buy some time.

Not being able to help snooping, he peered around her bathroom when he was done. Various creams and pills, and one very recognizable bottle of castor oil sat on the shelf near the sink. It was enough medicine to outfit a small pharmacy, certainly enough to keep Harvey in business easily for six months. He couldn’t even pronounce half of the names, and most of them seemed near empty or half-full. A small pill organizer sat on the lip of the sink, all days save  _ Sunday _ popped open and empty.

He picked one of the orange prescription bottles up and examined the label: _ Abernathy-Martín, Valencia. _ His face scrunched up at the sight of her name, surprised to find out her name hadn’t just been Valerie like he assumed it would.  _ What the fuck kind of name is Valencia? _ Quickly, he replaced the bottle where he’d found it, careful to tilt it the right way so she wouldn’t notice he’d touched it, and resumed staring at the sheer amount of bottles, both prescription and otherwise.

Seeing them felt like a horrible invasion of privacy, the voice in the back of his head already telling him off for snooping. Why couldn’t he leave her things alone, why did he have to pry, he shouldn’t even be in her house, let alone contemplating rifling through her medicine cabinet. He already knew she was sick, why couldn't he exercise even a little fucking self-control?

Still, the urge the open the mirror was tempting and terrifying. All of the pill cases and bottles were enough to unsettle him and forced him to realise she actually was sick. It wasn’t abstract anymore, contained in a few scars. The understanding turned his stomach in knots and made him feel ill for a reason he couldn’t quite understand. The sensation was just like when we he drank too much to feel well and too little to actually puke.

So he just washed his hands and left, preferring not to snoop through her entire cabinet. If he took too long she might come looking for him and find him halfway through picking the bottles he was sure he’d find. She probably wouldn’t want him staying for dinner after that.

He hobbled back in and leaned awkwardly on the edge of the couch for a minute before she turned from the big pot she was stirring on her stove and saw him.

“Sit,” she said, gesturing to the already-set table.

He did, though he knew it would be at least 15 minutes before dinner would be ready. The time to do nothing just afforded him the opportunity to think and observe more than he needed to. Something inside of him, right next to the feeling he’d had the week before watching her and Jas just be happy together, was tightening for something big. It wasn’t identifiable and it wasn’t unpleasant, but it was a confusing and heady thing to experience.

Seeing her putz around inside of her house was so different than everything else had been in public. He got a chance to see the little things he’d noticed expanded upon. It wasn’t just the orange in her cherry wood hair; he saw how she checked her face every time she passed by the big mirror in her living room, how she idly rested her hand over the crescent scar on her chest, how she felt the edge of her fingernail with her thumb when she was concentrating on something. It was that she always avoided stepping on the edge of her rug, and that she clearly favored her left side when carrying something, and that she hummed something familiar and wordless when she was distracted. It all felt  _ too _ intimate to see, like he was intruding on something he shouldn’t be. Like a fly on the wall spying at her life, he was half expecting her to finally spot him and swat him away.

They ate quietly, Shane trying to predict what appropriate dinner etiquette would look like.  _ You’ve eaten at a table before, stop acting like an idiot.  _ Realistically, he knew there was nothing to be self conscious about but he was in her  _ house _ and eating with her. The only other time he could remember even seeing the inside were the brief few minutes where he had checked on Dixie. Everything else had been glimpses as she breezed in and out of the the door. The idea to look inside had never really came to him, the entire thing feeling like he was just forcing himself further into her life. Those messy thoughts coupled with her bringing him inside and actually physically touching him in ways that made it almost hard to keep his dinner down.

“Hey,” she said softly, nudging him with her foot.

He jumped, not realizing how far into his own head he’d gotten.  _ Have I just been staring at my spaghetti this entire time?  _ “Something up?” he asked like he hadn’t just been spacing out.

“You doing okay?” She looked pointedly at his untouched plate. “Is something wrong with it?”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he said hurriedly, taking a bite. Surprisingly, it was pretty good.  _ Why did you think it wouldn’t be? _ “Just got a lot on my mind lately.”

A smile twisted on her face, wry and so  _ her. _ “That explains why you were trying to see your future in those noodles.”

“Well, it’s always worth a shot,” he said, smiling and loosening up a little. “Some kind of direction would be great about now.”

She grinned, the look all twisted up on her face like it always was. “What’s been bothering you?”

_ You, I think. _ “Nothin’ really.” He swallowed thickly and took another bite, talking around his food, “Just that time of year I guess.”

“Yeah…” she said, voice trailing off a bit. Her eyes turned to look at a random painting of a pier on the wall. “Hey,” she said suddenly, startling him a bit. “You can stay the night if you want, you know; I don’t want you to hurt yourself even more.”

He almost choked on the spaghetti that was halfway down his throat, face burning at the offer. “No, no I’m good,” he wheezed out, coughing from the way his throat had clamped down.

She rolled her eyes and snorted, going back to eating. “Don’t be scared, you’d sleep on the couch anyway.”

His mouth quirked to the side and he leaned back, looking at the wry smile that was starting to form on her face. “You’re such a generous host, you know that?”

“I like to think I have  _ excellent _ hospitality.”

He gave a half-smile back, the back of his neck still burning from her offer.  _ You know she’s just being friendly, she doesn’t really want you here.  _ “I’m good walking home. Marnie might have a heart attack if I’m not there in the morning.”

“Ah,” Val said, almost like she was disappointed. “Say hi to Lewis for me, then, when you wake up.”

He groaned and pushed his plate away. “And you killed my appetite with that one.”

_ “That’s _ all it took?” She leaned her chin in her hand and idly twirled a fork of spaghetti with her other. “Man, I didn’t realize how repulsive Marnie’s sex life was to you.”

“She’s almost like my mom,” he said, shrugging a little. “You wanna picture your mom sleeping with the Mayor?”

“I barely remember my mom,” she pointed out. “Now my dad on the other hand? It’s a possibility.”

That got a laugh out of him, Val smiling at the way he busted out. Dinner went on amicably, Val showing she was excellent at idle chatter. Just another thing he fell short on that she seemed to excel at, but it didn’t bother him this time. Just listening to her talk was nice, comforting and reassuring. There was just something so different about her  _ everything _ that made him listen intently when she talked about the nitrogen levels in the soil and the effect it had on the crops coming in. It was over too quickly, but eventually she was yawning and he realized it almost 9:30. Past bedtime for someone who woke up at 4 am most days.

She walked him to her porch, offering again to just let him stay the night, but he refused.  _ That _ would be too much, too personal, too fast. He wasn’t  _ enough _ to take much kindness from her, and the contrast of his rough edges with her smooth ones had frayed him to the point of mental exhaustion.

“Hard to believe it’s October already,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest and shivering a bit in the stiff night air. “Feels like I just got here the other week.”

Shane ran a hand through his hair and gradually tested his ankle some more. It was already much more stable, though it was still stiff and ached dully when he put his full weight on it. “It’s been six months, right?”

“Over seven, actually.” She sighed and he looked at her, really  _ seeing _ her for what she had been. Her hair was noticeably longer, nearly eight inches. 

He scratched at his head, still uncomfortable with the entire situation. This day had been so  _ much _ , way more than he’d bargained for and he could feel that bad mood creeping around the edges of his mind again. It was a certain kind of instability, the same voice that whispered to just jump into the river, slip in the shower, roll off the edge of the cliffs. It had been quiet, lately but it was incessant, a never-ending stream of thought that made him want to be alone so he didn’t have to pretend he wasn’t listening.

“That long here feels like forever,” he settled on saying.

Surprisingly, she laughed again, the same raspy chuckle she always had. “It hasn’t been so bad; I never expected to make a friend like you.”

He swallowed thickly, not knowing what to say again, but his ears were burning in embarrassment. All he wanted was to know what to  _ say _ , or at least have the courage to do anything. In the back of his mind he wanted to tell her  _ something _ , give her a confession that would either scare her away or bring her just a bit closer to into his orbit, but it didn’t feel like he had anything to give. There was so  _ much _ when he was just alone with his thoughts, but here on her porch in the biting autumn air, his hands were empty.

Then, he felt her fingers brush against the inside of his palm. The touch startled him, but he left her slide their hands together and accepted the little squeeze she gave him. Her fingers were cold at the tips, but her palms were warm and just a bit rough. With a perverse sort of humor, he thought that described her pretty well as he knew her, but in that moment he barely had the presence of mind to give her a squeeze back. 

It was an easy way to be once he let it happen, and in hindsight it was one of the warmest feelings he could recall having. Leaving her porch to limp home had felt like an adrenaline-fueled escape in the moment, but as he lied in his bed that night, he hated himself for being so  _ easy _ . Easy to get riled up, easy to play, easy to read. There was something awful feeling about being so predictable and he hated that she seemed to be able to know just how far to shove him. Was he really so transparent?

The next day he felt stiff and a little argumentative. Waking up to a text from Val saying that he shouldn’t come over; it was raining and she didn’t want him to get hurt any further. Just reading it made him feel so  _ inept. _ The logic wasn’t lost on him but he felt like he rarely even processed reason, brain instead seeming to rather stewing in depression and self-loathing before anything else.

She still came over to see him in the middle of the day, staying over for dinner at Marnie’s insistence. Offering to let her come in his room felt ridiculous, like he was a teenager asking a girl over so they could awkwardly fumble at each others shirts and clack teeth. Not to mention the mess in his made his ears burn again, embarrassed in a ridiculous way that he would even  _ care _ . He didn’t care that he lived like an animal, so why should he expect it to matter to him if she did?

The thoughts soured his mood and made him terse, Val cooling off in response. The warmth of her hand from the night before was just a distant memory by the time she left, giving him an impersonal good-bye and Marnie a hug. There was a fuck-up somewhere in the night where he’d done the wrong thing or said the wrong word; or maybe he was just too in love with his own unhappiness to let himself be anything other than wholly unsatisfied and miserable.

So he texted her that his ankle was feeling better after five beers and before he passed out and hoped that that would at least bridge some of the gap that he’d forced between them.

She was still there the next day when he got off work, their routine resuming like clock work, but she seemed more tired that she normally did. Her overall seemed more beat-up too, the bruises and cuts on her skin saying she’d been delving deeper into the mines. He considered asking her about it during one of their walks, but the way her breathing wheezed unsettled him. Just like the pill organizer on her sink, it was another reminder that she was sick that he didn’t want. He was so many things, both to himself and he was sure towards others, but he knew that  _ coward _ described himself perfectly.

And even with as bad as his mood was getting, he was still excited to see Val after work. The regularity and adult contact she brought had been nice, and it was only when he skipped it did he really grasp how much he’d been relying on it.

She wasn’t outside of work when he got off of his shift that Wednesday, her non-appearance even making him doubt if it really was five. Sure enough it was, and he stood there for nearly ten minutes with the vain hope that she was just late until he gave up and left. Maybe she’d be at the bar, or maybe she was just tired?  _ You know she isn’t gonna be there, stop being so fucking needy. _

The bar wasn’t empty when he got there, but it might as well have been. There was something to be said about the way his stomach dropped when he didn’t see her there, or the way he immediately asked for two beers and went to his usual corner to sulk. Two turned into four, which turned into eight, which turned into more than he could reasonably remember. It was like he was drinking them with each time the door opened; he’d look up like a lost, expectant puppy and be disappointed every time. It finally got to be too much close to 2 am, and he slurred that he was done at Emily. Distantly, he realised the bar was empty save maybe Pam.

When he’d finally paid his tab and shuffled out of the bar, he swallowed any pride he might have left and started towards the bus stop.

He’d decided to loop up around and go through her farm to get home, hoping maybe he’d see her in the fields or with the lights on in her house and he could get rid of the disgusting feeling in his body. Even with as drunk as he was, he still feared something had happened or that he’d somehow done something to just put her off.  _ Don’t you always fuck everything up? It really was just a matter of time. _ Rationally, he knew one day meant nothing, but when what felt like the one bright spot in your day was suddenly gone, everything else just felt  _ darker _ .

Then, a few yards away from the bus stop, he saw her.

She was leaning against the fence, clearly exhausted and clothes dirty. A few cuts dotted what he could see of her skin, and a few were visible through fresh rips in her overalls. The sight of her startled him the same way a ghost would, her appearance and placement so unexpected he actually stopped walking and just stared for a minute, unsure if she was really there or just a product of his drunken mind.

“Val?” he asked, squinting through the darkness.

Her head snapped towards him, eyes looking black without any light hitting them. There was something in her hands, a small light flickering dimly in her left hand. It went out with a soft  _ click. _ “Shane?” She tilted her head and seemed to be peering back, voice croaky and dry. “What’re you doing here?”

As drunk as he was and as worked up as his mind had gotten him, he was still excited to see her. “I’m walking home,” he said dumbly, still just standing there.  _ I missed you tonight, _ he thought, hating how he couldn’t stop it.

She was silent for a few moments, pushing herself to stand and walk towards him. There was a slight limp as she clearly favored her left leg, though she closed the short distance quickly.

“You’re drunk,” she said bluntly.

He frowned and looked away, though he really couldn’t even see much with how dark it was. “Well, yeah,” he mumbled. “Was at the bar.”

She huffed and pushed a stray hair behind her ear, something clearly clutched in her palm. “Were you waiting up for me there?”

He blinked and looked down at her hands, actually seeing what she had been doing when he’d walked up. “Are those cigarettes?” he asked blankly. There was a slick pack in one hand, clearly freshly opened, and a shiny lighter in her other.

The air was silent, Shane swaying a bit unsteadily on his feet as he saw her face twist in sudden anger. But she wasn’t looking at him anymore; the little cellophane bit of wrapper still clinging to the carton seemed to have her attention.

“Yes,” she said grindingly.

Hard, overwhelming anger washed over him. “Are you smoking?” Directionless fear and odd disappointment tangled in his guts, the sensation weird to be feeling in her presence.

_ “No,” _ she said quickly, emphatically. In a rush, she pulled her backpack around and stuffed them inside. “I absolutely was not, I just…” She bit her lip and ran a hand down her face.

The anger receded quickly at the look on her face, replaced by chilling regret. The look on her face was too raw, too real to really  _ handle. _ It was an unplaceable emotion, vulnerable and awful, like she was remembering something terrible that had never happened.

“I thought you quit,” he said, having a hard time processing what was going on. Stupidly, moronically, dumbly, everything felt like he was moving through syrup. The griefed look on her face felt entirely wrong, unfitting. Something wasn’t right, and he looked from the way she favored one leg over another, to the bruises he could see blossoming even in the blue night, to the dried viscera on her clothing.

“I did.” She took a deep breath and straightened, pulling her ripped jacked tighter and crossing her arms. “It was just a rough night.”

“So you were just gonna go  _ back,” _ he started, anger actually mounting. How he managed to be  _ mad _ baffled him. Caring what she did with herself was a terrible feeling, made him feel like a waste for immediately thinking of her lobectomy scar and the way he’d drank like a fish back at the bar. “Aren’t you afraid of getting sick again?”  _ Are you too scared to say cancer, idiot? _

“Aren’t you afraid of cirrhosis?” she snapped, icy demeanor so foreign on her.

He frowned and took a step towards her. Torn halfway between concerned and enraged, he reached out to touch her arm, steady the way she was wobbling and the way he felt like he was being spun on a merry-go-round. “What’re you—”

“Get  _ off  _ me.” She jerked away from him and stumbled backwards, just barely managing to catch herself on the fence. Her body shook unsteadily, footing unsure but she still looked at him with that raging disappointment, and he couldn’t quite tell whether it was just for him or for them both. 

His face scrunched in anger and surprise, still standing there dumbly with his hand out. “I just wanna know what’s  _ wrong.” _ Every part of his voice felt scratchy and he heard the frustration in it.

In the dark blue night, he could barely even tell if it was her. The usual landmarks he looked for were all wrong. Her hair was black and not a warm chestnutt, her eyes were inky dark and not their usual shade of deep orange, and the wry smile she always wore was missing completely, replaced entirely with an ugly grimace. It wasn’t deep enough to be a frown or cold enough to look like more than detached disappointment, but out of all the time he’d spent around her, he’d started to be able to recognize what anger looked like on her. It wasn’t burning or cold or intense; it just  _ was _ .

“No.” Her tone, fitting almost exactly to a T, was the same kind of frigidly detached. It was like she knew the perfect way to get under his skin. “You’re too drunk to help anyone, anyway.”

He didn’t know what to do, mouth gaping like a fish as Val frowned at him, face that hard kind of disappointed. It was like she was expecting him to do something, but he had no idea  _ what _ . Head too cloudy to make a reliable decision, he just watched as she scoffed and told him to go home before she left him there by the fence for her own house. As her form faded into the blue night, he was struck yet again by how alone he was.

The walk back to his room was nearly a blur, his mind and body both too exhausted to comprehend his inky dark surroundings. Yet, when he finally made it into bed, he couldn’t sleep. The bad mood that had been building in the background came right to the front as he stared up at the ceiling, replaying the confrontation in his head. It was stupid and obsessive and he wasn’t sober enough to think clearly, but it was all his brain gave him.

By the time he actually managed to fall asleep he was well out of being drunk and quickly easing into a hangover. It was really more of a nap than anything, and it just left him sweaty and disoriented when his alarm went off. Just slightly worse than his usual, and any good humor he’d managed to reclaim since the last time he’d drank himself to sleep on the floor felt like it was just draining out of him. The walk to work was cold and dreary, the sky threatening to pour and the exertion of walking combined with the pounding headache he had was enough to make him dry heave. Nothing came up, and he wished so badly he could just puke up the awful feeling in his guts, but it’d been too long since he’d eaten for that.

Through the work day nothing really  _ happened _ . Nothing was different; it didn’t matter that he felt like he was spiralling down something with no bottom and nothing to see when he tried to look out the top. The replays from the night before started to mix with every other embarrassment he’d had; his brain had organized some sort of shame parade to berate him with while he worked, made him desperate for any reprieve.

So by the time his shift ended, he didn’t have the energy to be disappointed that Val wasn’t there. It was still crushing in a weird way, the little bit of him that had held out hope she’d be there and last night was just a hallucination dying when she wasn’t around the corner of the automatic door.

Though going home and sleeping would’ve been the better idea, he walked to the Stardrop almost out of reflex. She wasn’t there either.

Emily commented on Val’s absence, Shane declining to say anything and favoring his mug over further conversation. Rationality said something was up with her and that she was dealing with it, but the black insecurity inside of him screamed that it was his fault. The idea that he’d disgusted her enough to never see her again compounded on the awful feeling in his guts he’d had for weeks. If he’d been a younger man, he would’ve been ashamed, embarrassed, maybe motivated to make things right any way he could. As he was now though, draining and numb to anything that felt like drive, all it did was make him thirsty.

Looking at the calendar that Friday, he finally understood the source of his terrible mood. October 8 th had never been a particularly important date in his life, but after he gained custody of Jas a few years back, it became the driving factor that pushed his depressive bouts into a full-on lifestyle. Today wasn’t going to be the good one he needed.

Work took twice as long as it usually did. No one even came in and attempted to bother him so he was left alone with himself as he stocked shelves in the migraine-inducing lights. He took the walk to the Stardrop alone. Inside, he still held out an inkling of the vain hope that Val would be around, but like the past few days she was nowhere to be seen. By the time he’d downed twelve beers, he was tired of watching Robin and Demetrius dancing by themselves and sick of how happy they looked.

He paid his tab and stumbled out of the bar, drunker than he should’ve been and not as much as he wanted to be. The night outside was just beginning to get crisp but wasn’t enough to stop the sweat from beading on his head. It didn’t help when he stumbled over into Jodi’s bushes and had to pry himself out. He figured the sight of him struggling to gain control over his limbs enough to overcome a shrub was pathetic enough, but his reasons for drinking so heavily just felt so moronic. He should just end it already, finally act sorry for what he’d done. instead of wallowing in self pity.

The bush protested as he finally managed to yank his sweater free, yelling aimlessly as he caused yet another hole in the tattered hoodie. He hurried home as fast as he was allowed, feet unsteady and shaky. By the time he’d gotten to Marnie’s ranch it was so late the moon was already past zenith and rapidly falling

When he woke up he barely bothered to check the time. All he could do was single-mindedly grab the case he had in his mini fridge and shuffle out the door, not bothering to answer Marnie when she called after him. His head was aching and he was too hungover to pretend not to be.

First, he hobbled to the pier and plopped down, opening a can and drank the entire can in one go. Another died the same way and he felt marginally better, headache starting to dissipate a bit. After the third he was both more clear headed and cloudier than ever, able to know that he wasn’t just drinking for his lost brother; it was the unbearableness of getting close to people only for them to be ripped away in one fashion or another. The rejection from Val stung more than he wanted to admit it did, tugging his heart strings in ways he didn’t know they could go. Maybe it was the rush of having a crush he didn’t want or the happiness of having a friend who actually seemed to enjoy him, but to have all of that crushed by just one action?

He told himself to stop feeling so sorry, he could take care of this. Another beer popped open and drained, then another, both dropped onto the dock with a clatter. He collected the other two packs and opened the last can from the first one, carrying both as he walked to the edge of the cliffs. His feet dragged in the grass.

He set the beer down gently while he let himself fall to the ground, his teeth clacking together with the force. Not caring, he finished the beer he had and chucked it over the cliff before popping the next one. It was the perfect scene, the answer to his problems, the storm clouds looming overhead only adding to scenario. He could jump, finish it, get swept away.

Another beer went down for courage. Four more for resolve.

_ Just do it, _ he thought to himself, finally standing on legs like gelatine.  _ No one needs you, no one would miss you, they’d all be better off. _

He finished the… he’d stopped counting at this point. The can protested as he crushed it before kicking a rock over the lip of the bluff. It sputtered a bit against the cliff face before plopping into the water. He  _ could _ just do it, and very easily. All it would take was one step and he’d either hit his head on the way down or be swept off by the current. It’s be easy, he’d barely have to do anything.

As he bent over to grab another beer, it started to rain, the clouds that had been threatening all day finally spilling over. Eyes bleary, he checked his phone for the time and it was barely three. Barely three o’clock and he was already rapidly approaching “too drunk to stand.”

He dropped the old can next to the pile of others and popped the new one open. The bitter taste barely bothered him, all he was chasing was the burn in his throat and the deepening haze it brought with it. By the time he was finished with it, it had barely been five minutes. He crushed it and dropped it, opened the next one and repeated. The rain picked up and quickly turned to mud under his clumsy feet, making it difficult to bend over and grab the next beer, but he managed it for the sake of getting as plastered as possible.

Opening the can was a relief, his wet fingers cold against the lukewarm can. Taking a drink, he peered over the edge of the cliff again, footing unsure and he caught himself hoping that it would be muddy enough that he wouldn’t have to make the choice and he’d just be taken.  _ You’re a fucking coward, you can’t even kill yourself properly. _

He took a step closer to the edge, foot sliding on the wet grass and almost tripped over, hating the rush of fear that crept up as he stopped himself from falling. Angry, he chugged the rest of the beer and threw it off the edge of the cliff with a yell, hating himself for being such a pathetic coward, worthless idiot, _ stupid fucking failure _ . Taking a step forward made the voice just a little bit louder, his head screaming at him over the downpour to just fucking do it already while his body hesitated, still trying to keep him off the edge. The second that self-preservation instinct went down, he knew he’d finally be free to jump.

_ “Shane?” _

He spun around, not too drunk to hear his name, even over the pounding rain. Val was standing by a tree and staring at him, her startled and fearful face the last thing he remembered seeing before slipping on the wet grass underfoot and slamming face-first into the mud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was weird, I was just typing and typing and then suddenly I hit the end of the chapter. Weird, right? I wrote the ending months ago and have just been filling in parts since then and everything just felt finished.
> 
> Anyway, tell me what you thought!


	7. Toast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He sat there anxiously as she got up and left him in the waiting room. Something about the sterile atmosphere set him on edge, reminded him of the night he gained custody of Jas. All of it was an unpleasant memory that made him thirsty, and he berated himself for being an idiot and coming along. Hadn’t he thought about what going to a doctor’s office and just _waiting_ would feel like? It was all too familiar, along with knowing that the whole point was to see if Val was still in remission made his mouth taste bad. The idea of her getting sick again and having to leave made him feel sick, stomach gurgling in anticipation. Sick and nervous, he clutched her bag tightly for support, an item anchoring him to this reality.

The hospital in Pelican Town didn’t smell the same as the one in ZuZu did. It still had the antiseptic and potpourri scent, but it lacked the underlying tones of decay and fear. It didn’t have the EMTs or the rushed ER doctors or the police asking him questions while he clutched a sobbing Jas when he’d rather just go to sleep. Surprisingly, being the only patient in the building just made it worse.

The whole experience felt a little more than surreal, Shane sure he woke up in a feverish daze every ten minutes, but the few times he managed to peer at a clock he could barely make out the time. He caught six pm with bleary eyes and a pounding headache. Through the thin cloth room divider, he could hear two voices. Had he not been so attuned to her recently, he might’ve not been able to makeout Val’s throaty voice against Harvey’s warble, but he caught it clear as day. A few brief moments of ashamed clarity, and he passed back out.

If there was anything to really _show_ him how serious things were getting, it was the remarkable lucidity he had as Harvey told him about his options, how he’d been found, how he’d been brought in. It was almost funny to picture Val and Leah schlepping his body to the hospital in the rain, but something fell short. Just the fact alone that he could _tell_ the difference in his mental states between now and a few days ago was sobering enough. The _accompanying_ fact that he still felt like he didn’t care that he’d lived weighed heavily on his mind. He almost said that, but something about the murky memories of Val finding him made him stop.

Still, before he left Harvey pressed a piece of paper into his hand and said it was for a friend of his: a therapist. The thought of going to therapy left a sick taste in his mouth, but everything that had happened lately made Shane swallow it. Maybe therapy wouldn’t be so bad; maybe he was tired of being a coward.

He left the hospital feeling fresher than he had in awhile, but that could’ve been the cool mist in the air bursting against his face. Out of all of the options he had at that moment, all of them embarrassed him deeply, but none more so than apologizing to Val. It could’ve been because he was sure she was disgusted with him now that she knew what he was really like, how much of a mess he was. Or it could’ve been that he knew apologizing would be more shame than he knew how to deal with.

Lost in his thoughts, he showed up at her house faster than he thought he would. By the time he got there, the mist had thickened to the point where he knew it would rain, but it just hadn’t broken that cusp yet. It would’ve been gloomy at any other time, but as he stood in front of her house, he found he was grateful for the lack of light.

Yet even as he took a deep breath, hand hovering over the door, he hesitated. _What do you even say?_ _Thanks for finding me, I’ve decided to see a therapist, I’m sorry you had to see that?_

He ran a hand over his face and knocked, noticing how cold the storm door was against his knuckles.

She showed up quickly, still in her bathrobe as she pulled her door open. Looking at him through the screen in the storm door, her eyes widened then narrowed, brow furrowing as she considered him.

Swallowing his fear and apprehension and shame, he just looked back her. “Mornin’,” he said because nothing else came to mind.

V looked around them for a minute, clearly still shaken from the day before. In that moment, Shane hated himself more than he could’ve figured possible. Why couldn’t he just keep his shitty feelings to himself? All he did was bring other people down with him, and here she was, an unsuspecting person caught in his self-destructive wake. He should just go now and toss the therapist’s number out, maybe get another six pack and then he’d finally have the courage to go off the bluffs.

“Why don’t you come inside,” she said, voice and expression the softest he could remember seeing on her. Suddenly, the panicked and angry thoughts were replaced by shame at how easily he could let himself slip again. With his weakness in mind, he followed her in after she opened the door for him, letting it snap shut behind.

Coffee was brewing and it looked like she’d been in the middle of shelling a few hard boiled eggs for breakfast when he’d interrupted her. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t envious of how well she seemed to have it together. There was a fresh loaf of bread on the table, cut in half with two pieces already toasted on a plate near it. A few pats of butter were struggling to maintain their integrity and losing the battle. The sight alone made his stomach clench hungrily.

“Sit,” she commanded and he didn’t have to be told twice. Val placed the plate with toast down in front of him, along with the two eggs she’d already shelled. Shane watched almost in a daze as she cut off two more pieces of the bread and dropped them into the toaster before grabbing two mugs out of the cabinet and poured coffee into them. One mug was set down next to the plate, the other stayed in her hands as she sat down and took a sip, regarding him over the rim.

Shane stared at the plate dumbly for a second before picking up a piece of the toast and taking a bite. It might’ve just been bread, but to his achingly empty stomach, it was maybe the most delicious thing he’d ever had. Without a second thought, he shoved the whole piece into his mouth and crunched a few times before swallowing with a sigh, barely noticing the little chuckle from Val. After a gulp of coffee he sighed again, feeling marginally better than he had when he’d walked in.

Clearing his throat, it was suddenly hard to meet her eyes. “I really do wanna apologize for what happened yesterday, I…” _Am a waste of space? Shouldn’t have dragged you into my life? Have to stop forcing my problems to be your problems?_

He was saved having to answer by her heavy sigh. “Shane, you terrified me yesterday, and I haven’t been honestly scared in a long time.”

Guilty, his stomach squeezed and threatened to push that piece of toast right back up. He swallowed, all too aware now of how close they were in her somewhat cramped house. “I didn’t realize it was that bad. Shit, I barely even remember it.”

“You were debating killing yourself,” she said frankly. The reality her voice always held was a beautiful fact about her.

“I’m too much of a coward to go through with it, anyway,” he mumbled, rolling one of the peeled eggs with his finger.

Val scoffed. Looking at her, Shane thought he saw disgust in the corners of her mouth, but he desperately didn’t want to believe it was there. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, and her arms were crossed. “You’d have been a coward if you’d done it. A selfish, idiotic coward.”

“Hey, I’m trying to apologize!” he said indignantly, anger mounting. Who was _she_ to rub it in?

 _She’s right,_ said the voice at the back of his head, but he ignored it.

“What about Marnie, or Jas? What about Emily? _What about—_ ” she started, voice raising, but she stopped herself short.

Anger turned to shame quickly again, forcing him to watch as she shot up abruptly and stood in front of the toaster, the little machine going off with a _ding!_ after a moment. She took her breakfast out and sat back down next to him at the table, not touching it.

Shane watched, wide eyed and flushed, as she reached her hand out to where his was on the table and covered it. There were more calouses than the last time she’d touched him.

“I’m just glad you’re alright,” she said, voice breaking ever so slightly.

If that didn’t crack his heart, he wasn’t sure if anything could. The genuine shaking relief in her body was evident; fear, panic, and directionless anger seemed to spill out of her and left her just relieved. He swallowed thickly and turned his hand around to hold hers, painfully aware of every point of contact on their skin.

“Thank you for helping me,” he murmured for want of something else to say.

She just nodded and squeezed his hand a bit harder before letting go. “Eat your food. I doubt you’ve had anything solid for the past two days.”

 _She’s not wrong._ He obeyed, more afraid of making her worry over him than out of genuine hunger. She didn’t deserve to worry about him and he didn’t deserve her concern or her kindness.

They ate in silence, only with the rain tapping outside for company. He took longer than he’d like to admit to finish breakfast. Not wanting to walk home in the rain and the desire to just hold onto the comfortable time with her were balanced inside of him, but the time eventually came when she stood up and took their plates to the sink. Not bothering to wash them, she turned to look at him from in front of the counter.

“Can _you_ do me a favor today?” she asked, seeming breathless.

“What do you need?” he asked warily. _She wants you to stay away from her, you ruined everything by forcing yourself onto her._

“I have to go into the city today, and I don’t want to go alone.”

He blinked in surprise. “You want me to come with you?”

V nodded.

Eager to make up for the scene from the day before, he said yes.

After breakfast, he practically ran home. Marnie was worried and asked how he’d been doing, what Dr. Harvey had said, if he needed help with anything. On any other day he would’ve been irritated and guilty, but he felt invigorated by the promise to go into the city with Val that he didn’t have the vitriol inside of him to be rude to his aunt.

“I’m fine, Val helped me to the hospital,” he said quickly, sure she already knew everything from the grilling he heard her giving Harvey. He got his backpack and filled it with a few things: phone charger, water bottle, snacks.

Marnie watched him worriedly as he scrambled around looking at his room. Shit, he still hadn’t showered since the scene at the bluffs. “Have you seen my nice pants?” he asked, pulling his clothes off quickly to get ready for a shower.

“They’re in your dresser, with all of your other unused clothes,” she replied, the worry having fallen out of her voice in favor of curiosity. “Where are you going today?”

“Not sure.” He stood there almost to his underwear and pulled open the dresser. A few faded pairs of jeans were in there, along with new boxers he’d forgotten he’d ever bought. “I’m going into the city with Val, though,” he elaborated, opening other drawers for nicer clothes. He produced new pants, underwear, socks, and a shirt, as well as a coat he hadn’t seen in years. _How long have these been sitting in here?_

“Just out of the blue?” she asked, concern mounting in her voice again. “Did Harvey say it was safe for you to go?”

“I don’t need his _permission,”_ he said, starting to get irritated. The clothes he’d pulled out went haphazardly onto his bed and he tried to slip into his bathroom, but Marnie pushed herself in the way.

“You scared all of us so much yesterday, Shane,” she said, the genuinely upset tone in her voice piling guilt onto him. “Can you tell me what happened?”

He sighed, softening in the face of his aunt’s worry. “I can talk about it when I get home, probably tomorrow, but I really have to get going. Didn’t you ask Harvey and Val already?”

“I want to hear it from you.” It was a simple thing to say and she seemed less… _sad_ than she had before, but it still ripped into something small inside of him. It was genuine concern and real love that he was sometimes too far into his hole to remember was still there. Hell, for most of his life, Marnie had been more of a parent than his own mother had been. He owed her more than what she’d been getting.

“We’ll talk,” he said, sure and clear headed. “But right now I smell like mud and sweat and I really need to shower.”

She cracked a half smile and let him through, making him promise that they actually _would_ talk later. He promised and then proceeded to scrub himself raw in the shower, body feeling heightened for a reason he couldn’t quite nail down. Even putting his clothes on and walking to the train station felt unreal, almost ethereal. Everything had just been _happening_ since he woke up and if he stopped to actually analyze the situation he was worried he’d find something tiny to fixate on and ruin everything.

V said to meet her at the train station at 11. He was there by 10:30, the rain reduced to a light drizzle as a few rays of sun beat through the clouds. She showed up early too, right as the train arrived and pulled him into a damp hug he hadn’t realized he’d been needing. Without even meaning to, he pulled her tightly and held on, grateful that she didn’t say anything at the sudden intensity.

Boarding, he noted just how long it had been since he’d taken the train. In all honesty, he’d even forgotten it had existed. It was so easy to think of the Valley as its own little bubble, which it was, but there were things that connected it to the outside that always just seemed out of place, and seeing the contrast of the relatively modern train to the ancient station platform made him almost nostalgic for the way things used to be. His mom had used to take them on the train to visit Marnie during the summer.

So lost in his thoughts, just staring out the window as the scenery rolled by, he was practically in his own world until Val got his attention.

“What color would you say your eyes are?” she asked, elbowing him.

He started and turned away from the window to look at her, finding that she’d been staring at him. “Hm? Green.”

Her mouth quirked to the side as she considered his face. Cheeks burning under her gaze, Shane turned away half in embarrassment and half in an emotion he didn’t want to give a name to quite yet. His guts started to turn themselves into knots or something, his stomach fluttering slightly.

“I’d say more hazel, or olive,” she said. “They’re certainly very pretty though. A lot of different greens and some brown. And a little bit of gold right there.” With that she pointed to somewhere on his left eye.

It was embarrassing, but more flattering than anything. To be looked at so closely made him anxious that she’d finally see something in him that would tell her to stay away or that he wasn’t worth her time. Instead, he felt pleasantly warm under her gaze, and more than flattered by the compliment. It’d been so long since he’d gotten any genuine ones.

He cleared his throat, trying to shove down the want to hold her hand or even just touch her arm. “Yeah? And what color are yours?”

“Brown,” she said simply.

“That it?”

“Sometimes people say they look orange, but I think it’s just perspective. I mean,” she said, laughing a little as she ran a hand through her hair. “What on me _isn’t_ orange?”

 _Well fuck if she isn’t right._ From her hair auburn hair, copper skin, and sunny eyes, there was no doubt that the general consensus of colors was orange. Not all the same shade, and not all strictly _only_ orange, but it was true.

“You aren’t _wrong,_ but they aren’t quite just orange. They’re more…” he trailed off, fumbling for words and the slightest coherence as he observed her upturned face in the sunlight from the train window.

He wasn’t one for poetry, but he could definitely come up with more than a few words to describe the way her eyes looked in the morning light. They _were_ brown, but there was so much more than that. There was the slightest ring of green, and so many gold flecks that her eyes truly did almost seem orange. Once, he’d heard Leah talking about different paint pigments, and she’d said one that perfectly described what Val’s eyes looked like. If only he could remember what it was called—

“Ah,” he said quietly. Val looked at him questioningly. In a better state of mind he would’ve thought he’d seen her cheeks flush, but they couldn’t have.

“You gonna answer, big guy?” she asked, an eyebrow arching.

“Burnt sienna,” he said, feeling like an idiot for even knowing what it was. “It’s a paint color or something. Orangey-red.”

Instead of the confusion or uncomfortable silence he half-expected, she grinned big and wide. Wide enough to make him smile back, even just a little. It was a beautiful look on her face, the light smattering of freckles across her nose and cheekbones stretching with the force of it. The fluttery feeling in his guts only intensified.

“Look at you!” she said lightly, elbowing him. “Mr. Sophisticated!”

He just huffed and turned to look back out the window at the rolling country that slowly bled into suburbs and then more densely-packed city, but he caught himself smiling. There was even a flush to his ears he hadn’t felt in a while. It wasn’t shame or embarrassment, it was just the simple feeling that comes from feeling… well, something genuine. What exactly the feeling itself was, he couldn’t quite pin it down.

They arrived in the city after a couple hours, Val goading him into simple small talk the entire way. It was a stark contrast to the intense air they had had earlier at her house, and he welcomed it. Something about the casual questions and talks put him at ease and made him forget where he was going. The more he got to know her, the closer he got to feeling like he’d walk anywhere with her, but facing not only his fear of hospitals and his fear of illness at the same time was a tall order. One he was glad to put off dealing with.

The hospital she got her imaging done at was one of the larger ones, and she had already told him he’d have to stay in the waiting room while they got it done. When he asked why she needed it done here and now, she said that hospitals were one of the few places that stayed open on the weekend. Rationally, that made sense, but the crippling anxiety and discomfort that mounted on him at the thought of being alone in the hospital twisted his guts into knots.

So when they finally sat down and checked in, he was preparing himself for that inevitability. It came after about a half an hour. It was as simple as a nurse coming through the inner doors and calling her over. Val handed him her purse and told him she’d be right back, but he knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

He sat there anxiously as she got up and left him in the waiting room. Something about the sterile atmosphere set him on edge, reminded him of the night he gained custody of Jas. All of it was an unpleasant memory that made him thirsty, and he berated himself for being an idiot and coming along. Hadn’t he thought about what going to a doctor’s office and just _waiting_ would feel like? It was all too familiar, along with knowing that the whole point was to see if Val was still in remission made his mouth taste bad. The idea of her getting sick again and having to leave made him feel sick, stomach gurgling in anticipation. Sick and nervous, he clutched her bag tightly for support, an item anchoring him to this reality.

When she finally returned, Shane had worked out enough scenarios were she would die to fill a lifetime. It was inadvertent but he couldn’t stop it, left alone for two hours just waiting. Anxious worry and paranoia compounded into something ugly and maladaptive to what reality actually was. The sight of her walking towards him shocked and relieved him of his worst fears. Shocked, because for the first time he seemed to notice how much longer her hair was since he first saw her at the bar, and relieved because she hadn’t suddenly succumbed to a new tumor in the radiology lab.

“How’d it go?” he asked, passing her her bag.

She took it and slung it over her shoulder with a shrug. “Fine. It’s not my first rodeo.”

He sat there, expecting her to say something, but she just sat back down next to him. “Aren’t we done?” he asked, confused.

Val shook her head. “I’m gonna wait for my doctor to tell me the news for the scan. I’m a “priority” patient, so the radiologist looks at the scans, tells my doctor if anything has changed, and if they have, I get a call. If I leave, they’ll call me if they find anything. The blood work will be in my patient portal after the doctor looks at it, and if there are any problems with _that,_ I’ll get called too. Usually, like, three weeks later, though.”

Her phone buzzed a little as she opened it, probably checking her messages while she had a chance. “Are you worried?” he asked.

“I could be, but it’s be pointless,” she said with a shrug. “If it’s back, then it is. If it isn’t then it kinda just feels like more of a waiting game. It’s been gone for over a year, but my doctor said that I’m really only in the clear after five years, but that’s pushing it. I could be 80 and suddenly get cancer again.”

He blinked, surprised by the severity but unsure really why he was. “So this is gonna just keep going on?”

She faced him, eyes harder than he expected them to be but then again, she had proven herself to be a stalwart person so far. Maybe that was why she’d stuck around him for this long.

“Every three months for three and a half more years. Then, twice a year for five more. Then, if I make it that long, once a year.” She huffed and ran her hand through her hair again, something he noticed her doing more and more as it got longer. “It’s not so bad. You learn to live with it. When the real threat of dying hits you, everything gets put into perspective.”

Those words had shame welling up in his guts again, his suicidal idealization making him almost sick. Her anger and frustration at calling himself a coward at her house made just the slightest bit more sense, and he joined her in the feeling. What she was going through made him feel small and unimportant, the complete lack of control over life he felt that he had. But something like this? Having to constantly look over your shoulder for death sounded infinitely worse. The blatant disregard he had for his own life probably frustrated her to no end.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled gruffly, holding his head in his hands as he sat there. Feeling useless in a hospital wasn’t a new feeling to him, but it wasn’t welcome.

A warm hand touched his shoulder, Val giving him a small squeeze that said she knew what he meant. Without looking up, he sighed and held her hand, feeling stupid for needing her consolation when she was the one facing a verdict.

“It puts everything in _perspective_ ,” she said again, and he really _got it_ this time.

They sat there quietly for a bit, Shane battling with the crippling shame that crept up the back of his neck and the headache that was starting to coil at the base of his skull. The waiting room was uncomfortable, too much _everything_.

“How long’ve you been coming here?” It was an attempt to restart the conversation, but he found himself genuinely curious as he asked it.

She shrugged. “A while. I was diagnosed two years ago and I’ve been in remission for a year.”

 _Fuck, how old did she say she was?_ “So… when’s your birthday?” he asked, trying to cover up the spots in his memory.

Her lips twitched into a smile, a small laugh ringing. “I’m 28 now. Don’t worry about forgetting; you never actually asked.”

“And you were 26 when you were diagnosed.” _Can’t believe I remembered._

“Mhm.” She was rifling around in her purse and came up with her phone, looking at it as she spoke. “Pretty sure chemo isn’t everyone’s idea of a fun way to spend their mid-twenties, but to each their own I guess.”

There were a few seconds of awkward silence while she tapped something in and sent it, and he fumbled for something to say. “Hey—” he started, but was cut off by her phone buzzing.

She picked up with a quick hello and he could barely hear what was being said on the other side, but it was over quickly. Locking her phone and stuffing it away into her bag, she bumped him with her elbow. “Ready to go?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said, standing with his jacket. “Who was that?”

“My dad.” She shrugged her jacket on and hiked her bag up her shoulder. “He calls me afterwards every time. I guess he just wants to check up.”

He nodded, feeling weird for prying. “So we’re gonna go then?”

“Yeah.” She flashed her same smile, crooked and probably too wide, but he loved the way it looked anyway. “I know it might be surprising, but I _don’t really_ like spending my free time here.”

He just nodded silently, following her out of the building. It wasn’t even that late yet, but he could feel himself getting tired in the misty pre-evening light. The noise from traffic had already become secondary, Shane finding that he fell back into his old life easily. For all of the bad memories the city held, he missed having anything else to do. But for however much of his life was just work and drinking, he wasn’t quite sure how much that would change if he left the Valley.

As if sensing his descent into depressed self-exaction, Val suggested they go to dinner. As if one cue, he felt his stomach gurgle. It was either hunger or nausea at the idea of being asked to dinner by her, but it didn’t matter. He said yes.

It was just a simple sit down in a pizzeria, but they talked and it was _nice._ It was just good, simple, easy, friendly conversation. Occasionally he could feel her foot tab against his leg as she changed the way her legs were crossed, but he tried to ignore the way each touch made his heart jump. Other times he caught her catching a quick glance at her phone, and it made his heart sink to think she was probably waiting for a call from the doctor. For as solid as she seemed, that little movement alone showed something inside of her that was lying coiled in fear at the thought of bad news.

The ride home was less eventful than he might’ve hoped, but he wasn’t even sure what he was hoping _for._ _Do you want the trail to derail so you don’t have to call the therapist? Do you want Val to do something? Do_ you _want the courage to do something?_

So many things rattling around in his skull was starting to give him another headache, a dull aching at the base of his neck. It felt almost like a hangover, nausea coming fast behind it. By the time they’d reached town and walked back to her farm, he wanted to just puke and get it over with.

At her door, she cleared her throat. He jumped a little and swallowed thickly, feeling a sheen of sweat on the back of his neck even though it was so cold out.

“I wanna talk about earlier this week,” she started, looking embarrassed. The way she held the expression, it was like this was the first time in her life she was experiencing it.

“What about it?” He’d been doing his best to ignore the memory, as fuzzy and probably out of focus as it was.

“I shouldn’t have been so… aggressive towards you,” she admitted with a shrug. Crossing her arms, she looked distantly past his head. “It was a bad day that just got worse. Now that you’ve kinda seen a little bit _more_ into what I have to do, I feel more comfortable telling you about it.”

He just raised an eyebrow, nausea subsiding for a moment in the wake of his curiosity.

She just shrugged and grabbed the arm of her jacket tighter. “I keep having these dreams where I’m in the hospital and I cough so hard my lungs fall out, or where I’m just stuck constantly grabbing fistfuls of my hair, just balding forever until I wake up. One even has my mother, as much as I can remember her, except she’s just sitting still on a couch, slowly turning into ash until she just blows away.”

He made a face, not quite getting her point but deeply unnerved by what she was saying. “I’m pretty sure those are nightmares, not dreams.”

Surprisingly, she chuckled a little. “My dad told me that when I started having them. I know they’re all because of afraid of getting sick again, or I’m afraid of dying, or I’m afraid of just going down with my family. I think.” She shrugged again and looked at him, something just a little bit twisted in her eyes, almost comedic. “My mom was cremated, actually. I think that’s what the one with her is about, at least partially.”

The bugs around them seemed like they were quieting their chattering, falling into a low murmur almost as if they wanted to hear what she was saying too. “How long have you been having these?”

“Mostly since I was diagnosed. When I was younger, they were different. Things that scare kids, mostly, but I had a point in telling you.” She took a deep breath and looked away again. “I had one Wednesday morning, and they tend to just… make me _weird_. I usually shake them off, but then I went into the mines again; I was determined to finally make it to the bottom. But I got stupid and passed out. Linus fished me out, otherwise I would’ve died.”

Her lips were pursed into a thin line and her voice was clipped at the ends, like she was angry. At hearing that she had almost died that night, Shane felt the bottom of his stomach drop out, the nausea returning twice over and he almost dry heaved into the bushes next to her porch.

Seeming like she recognized that he was about to be sick, she reached out and grabbed his hand. “I’m not trying to scare you. I just want you to know that I didn’t mean to do it, and I’m, sorry about it. Everything happening to me that day and then seeing you at the very end just… it felt bad.” She took another deep breath and made direct eye contact, the intensity almost putting him off, but he held firm as he looked back. “I don’t like seeing you so drunk like that. I hate it, actually.”

He swallowed and cleared his throat, squeezing her hand back and hoping it conveyed everything he felt in that moment. Immense pride for her choosing him to be her friend, that she saw something worth keeping around in him. There was shame and admiration mixed in, the same as he felt when he was with her at the lab, and he felt it tingling in his limbs. Then there was resolve in there, the idea that he could handle getting himself together and that he had a _reason_ to. More than one, _actually_.

“I’ll handle it,” he said, just in case she didn’t get it. And hearing it aloud helped him too, if even just a little.

She nodded and squeezed his hand, not letting go. There was a heavy moment of silence, the sound of the insects seeming to come back all at once and Shane was _painfully_ aware of where every part of his body occupied space. As if on cue, he could feel his palms start to sweat and his head start to ache behind his eyes.

“Do you want to come in?” she asked, voice lower and softer than he could remember it being.

The implication he saw spark in her eye alone had him dropping her hand like it was on fire. The idea _alone_ that she could want anything physical to do with him had his mind already slapping him with a thousand ways about how he was disgusting. _Fat, moronic idiot, are you really so stupid to think she would want to have sex with you? She can probably just see how sick you look and doesn’t want you puking on her stairs. Tell her you can’t, go home and have a drink—_

“No, I’m good,” he nearly squeaked, scrambling to come up with an excuse. “I’ve got this _thing_ —work!—to do tomorrow and I—”

“It’s _fine,”_ she cut in, almost laughing. She had on a crooked smile, eyes crinkling along with the look. “I just figured I’d ask, be a good host and everything.”

“You’re a great host,” he said, perhaps with too much enthusiasm. “I just feel like I’ve taken up too much of your time already.”

“You don’t even wanna stick around and say hello to the girls?” she asked, turning to look at him sideways, all sly like she knew something he didn't.

He cleared his throat, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck as he looked wistfully at where he coop stood looming in the dark. “How about I come by tomorrow after work for that? Maybe I should… distance myself from the saloon for a while.”

She visibly brightened at him saying that, her crooked smile bright and wide on her face. The sight made him swallow thickly, body suddenly warm despite the cool air. Her vigorous nod and the hug she gave him just melted him further, and he was hugging her back without even thinking about it. It all just came so naturally with her, this feeling of intimacy he’d never experienced before. It was good.

Still he let her go and dragged himself home. The lonely walk to his bed really had him feeling the headache he’d been repressing, radiating across the top of his skull to his temples. It grew to be so bad that he got nauseous, stomach clenching and churning sickly at him. To make it even worse, he knew what was causing it, even if he didn’t want to admit it. The thought of a beer was almost too enticing for him to pass up, knowing it would get this awful sickly feeling off of him, but he held himself strong against it.

He fell asleep and woke up with that same nauseous feeling, the headache just getting worse as he walked to work in the cold morning air. Everything made him feel nauseous and on edge, the ache behind his eyes making him desperate for a drink. Even the gentle filtering of the river stirred his guts up until he was barely able to breathe through it when he opened the doors to work. The antiseptic and stale mop water smell of the store nearly pushed him over the edge, and he had to sit down with his head between his legs for almost ten minutes before he could shrug his apron on.

And he nearly made it two hours like that.

Almost like it took him by surprise, he just bent over the edge of the counter and puked directly into the space between the shelves. After a few retches and he felt completely emptied, he just sagged against it, not caring at how he _knew_ everyone was staring at him. Without even waiting for Morris or Sam to run over, he dropped the mop he’d been using and walked back to the employee “lounge.” His hat and apron came of unceremoniously and were hung up, and he was out of the front door, electing only to grunt when Morris asked him what the hell had happened. _It seems pretty fucking obvious what happened._

It’s unclear how exactly he made it home without tripping and drowning in the river, but he figured he could chalk that up to his clearly incredible sense of direction. Even if he puked two more times on the way back. The last one might’ve been in Emily’s bushes, but he wasn’t quite sure.

As soon as he opened the door home, Marnie came and fretted over him. He was barely listening, the headache taking over so much of his mind that he couldn’t process most of what she was saying. Morris had called, she’d called Harvey, what exactly happened, are you okay?

He just shook his head and went to his room. Almost as soon as he laid down he was out like a light, waking up again later to throw up again. Barely even acknowledging that time still existed, he bothered to check the time and saw it’d been almost two hours since he’d gotten home. Sitting on the floor of his bathroom and feeling absolutely terrible, he groaned and leaned his head on the side of the toilet he’d just retched into.

The only thing that forced him to get up was how uncomfortably hot he was still in his clothes. Only when he got into his undershirt and boxers did he feel at least not hot enough to melt into the floor. Everything was just an irritating mix of nauseous and painful, his joints aching along with his head. And just like the night before he _knew_ what it was, and he could feel his resolve breaking. So he ended up just lying there in bed, body too much _everything_ for him to fall asleep again but not feeling well enough to anything but.

Time passed like it was moving through gelatin then, head dipping in and out of that hazy place that came right before sleep but never quite making it there before he was pulled back to some semblance of consciousness. Just as he felt like he was about to slip under again, someone talking outside of his door brought him out.

Even through his foggy head space, he could recognize that voice. Raspy and gripping, even if he was _dead_ he was sure the sound of Val’s voice could get him to climb out of his coffin.

Forcing himself to stand, he dragged his feet to his door and opened it, not bothering to say anything before he went back to his bed and flopped down onto it. Val just followed him in, telling Marnie she’d take care of it, and shut the door behind her. His bed dipped as she sat down on it, the space feeling cramped as she practically sat on his leg.

She reached into her bag and produced a bottle, the familiar rattle of pills making him open his eyes and prop himself up. It was a small prescription bottle with his name on it, and as dazed as he was, he wasn't too far gone to be confused.

“What’s that?” he croaked, throat dry and voice horse.

“Valium.” she said curtly, opening the bottle and tipping out two pills. A water bottle came out of her bag and both were thrust at him.

Shane took the water without complaint and drank it fast enough to nearly make himself sick again, but Val stopped him and urged him to take the pills. Hating the concern on her face and the indescribable emotion he saw swimming in her eyes, he took them, only bothering to ask where she’d gotten them after he couldn't feel them in his throat anymore.

“I went to see Harvey after I’d received a call from Marnie about what you’d did. He figured this was going to happen and asked me to bring the pill bottle to you, so here I am.” The bed creaked as she shifted her weight on it and stretched, hair swaying and wafting the smell of honey and lavender over to him. “I’m actually surprised he stocks it, but I guess he trusts the people around here _not_ to break into the clinic.” A heavy sigh welled up out of her and Shane closed his eyes in shame, throwing an arm over his face so he wouldn’t at least have to look at her disappointment.

After a few moments of quiet breathing, he cleared his throat. “I didn’t have a drink. I know you think I’m weak enough to give in after a few days, but I haven’t.” _I’d probably kill for one though, if my entire body didn’t hurt._

Soft fingertips brushed his arm, followed by more calloused fingers and palms. Her hand gently pulled his arm away and ran through his hair, the action so comforting Shane could’ve cried if he wasn’t so dehydrated, he reasoned. He sighed at the touch, her cool hands feeling like heaven against his burning skin. Without thinking about it, he reached a hand out and put it on her thigh, appreciating the solid mass of her leg and texture of her skirt.

“I know and I don’t,” she murmured, fingers still combing through his sweaty hair. “It’s withdrawal, but you’ll be okay.”

He wasn’t sure how long she just sat there petting his hair, but the medication started to make everything a little fuzzy around the edges. It was a relief for his shivering muscles to stop and finally let him rest, overheated skin loving the cool sensation of her skin on his scalp. There was an indeterminable calmness in the action, the simple and intimate gesture doing more than he could guess the Valium did. Though that worked wonders too.

By the time he woke up, the sun was already starting go down. Bleary and head feeling gummed, he felt around his nightstand blindly, not searching in particular but just trying to get his bearing. He grasped the pill bottle by accident and looked at it, trying to discern what it actually was.

Discerning that Val must’ve left it for him, he popped it open and almost choked when his throat proved too dry to actually swallow. Peering at his nightstand, he noticed a lukewarm glass of water, bits of condensation still pooling in a ring at the base. The entire glass was swallowed in nearly one gulp.

Shane elected to just sit against his wall for a few minutes and wait for his stomach to stop churning. The afforded time to think about how Val had seen him made his head ache even harder, but then again she’d stayed with him until he’d fallen asleep. Cared enough to come and bring him medicine. Cared enough to seem worried, and solid enough to help him. That was a good difference she had from everyone else; she was solid and frank, a trustworthy person who took to responsibility like a fish to water.

Gathering himself to get up was difficult, but he managed. A headache throbbed behind his eyes, his legs felt like gelatin, and his stomach was already threatening to empty, but he managed. Stumbling to the door like a newborn calf would’ve made him feel pathetic if he had the presence of mind to, but he was too singular in his desire for _anything_ to drink.

There was no one in the vestibule, and he didn’t hear anything going on in the kitchen. He used the wall for support as he dragged himself to the fridge and almost grabbed  a beer before he realised what he was doing. Putting it back was harder than he could’ve thought, but just the chance that he’d see the disgustedly disappointed look on Val’s face that he’d seen the day before gave him enough courage to exchange it for a water bottle. Cracking it open and draining half at once, he collapsed into a chair and held the cold bottle to his head in an attempt to curb the fever just a little.

A few seconds turned into a few minutes as he tried to ignore the urge to just open the fridge back up and grab a beer. Feeling his resolve breaking bit by bit, he tried to get back up so he could collapse onto his bed again, already drowsy from the medicine again. A noise from the hallway stopped him, making him turn his head to see Jas.

She was peering at him from around the wall, brows knotted in too much worry for a seven-year-old. There was shyness and distance in her eyes and it was fucking terrible to see, Shane hating the way he’d grown to be an uncomfortable figure in his niece’s life. About to say something to maybe make her just a bit more comfortable, Val walked around the corner to stand over her.

V stared at him for a second, expression unreadable. Then she turned to Jas.

“Would you mind playing by yourself for a little while? I’m gonna help your uncle, and I don’t think you want to get sick too.” She sounded a little chipper as she said it, Jas staring at her with wide eyes. Then she looked back at Shane at for a moment before agreeing to go play dolls by herself.

Jas skittered off and Val was left standing in the eaves, just watching him as he sat half-hunched over in a chair and clutching a bottle.

He cleared his throat, face burning in shame at her seeing him like this. “What’re you still doing here?” he asked, voice croaky.

“Watching you,” she said simply, walking to sit in the chair next to him.

He might’ve been bleary and sweaty, but he still had enough of himself left to manage being indignant. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Marnie asked me to, and Jas seemed scared.” She tapped her fingers on the table and huffed, body tense. “How’re you… doing?” she asked eventually, looking at him like she was expecting him to be someone different.

“I’m fine.” The answer was a reflex and her mouth narrowed at it. He sighed heavily, putting the bottle back on the table.

Her hand grabbed his arm, fingers cool against his feverish skin. “Tell me the _truth.”_

“A lot’s happened the past few days,” he mumbled, leaning his elbows on the table so he could cradle his head. “I feel like shit and I’m probably fired.”

“No, actually you’re going back on Monday next week.” Her hand tightened on his arm, and her other rested reassuringly on his knee. “Harvey sent in a letter saying you weren’t fit for work for the rest of the week.”

“If I live that long,” he mumbled, amazed at the way his head still managed to pound at full force.

“You aren’t going to die,” she said firmly, standing. “You’re going to come and watch TV with me and Jas, and then you’re going to force yourself to eat something, and then you’re going to go to bed.”

The surety in her voice got him to listen, pulled him out of the spiralling well of self-pity he was close to falling down again. So he did what she said, feeling marginally better to be _doing_ something with his time instead of just festering on his sweaty bedsheets. No part of him felt _well_ , in fact he felt terrible, but there was something still in the fact that she stuck around. She loved Jas enough to stay and watch over her, loved Marnie enough to agree to do it. That dedication to his family moved him, even if he wasn’t in the presence right then to appreciate it fully.

She tucked Jas in and then him after dinner. They ate late, and Shane had to excuse himself to puke it back up. By the time he got back, Val was back in the kitchen doing the dishes. The soft sound of the noise machine in Jas’ room drifted in, quiet and almost imperceptible.

“Feeling better?” Val asked, putting the last dish in the drying rack.

“Been worse,” he said, trying to give her at least a partial smile for her trouble.

She returned it and followed him to his room, sitting and talking while he lied down. The entire thing felt distinctly like he was in a retirement home, but he still relished the attention. She stuck around, and she was going to _be_ around, telling him that she was going to be back in the morning after she got her work done at the farm. That promise comforted him, shut down anxiousness at her leaving that he hadn’t even known was there.

She was still in the room with him when he fell asleep, Shane comforted so much by her presence. The way her just sitting in the chair next to his bed worked to quell his anxiety was incredible, and he felt something hollow and heavy in his guts when he woke up to see she had already left. It was the longing in absence, his feelings increased tenfold in every direction as the withdrawal tugged on him.

That blurry space between when Val left and returned felt like it both dragged on forever and passed in an instant. His ability to quantify time in that period was distorted, sitting and watching TV with Jas feeling like it passed over a few seconds while trying to choke down anything to eat lasted hours. By the time she came back, he’d been trying to sleep again in his room on his sweaty sheets and was fading in and out of hazy consciousness.

Distantly, he heard his door creak open slowly and the steady thump of Val’s footsteps, but it still startled him when she put a hand on his back, his skin so overheated that she felt cold.

“Doing alright?” she asked, voice soft.

He groaned into his pillow and rubbed his face around, trying to gain something that could be considered composure. “I lost a foot of intestine puking, but I think that’s over, and Jas told me I smell terrible.” The words came out muffled, but she seemed to be able to hear them.

She chuckled a bit, throaty and _her._ “So not your worst day, then?”

Thinking it over in his head, he ended up shrugging a little and turning his face to the side, squinting against the light that bled through the window. “No, I gotta say I’ve had worse.”

A moment of silence and then he felt her get off of the bed, his watery eyes seeing her blurry shape as she stood with her hands in fists on her hips. “Get up, we’re gonna go for a walk.”

He groaned, rubbing his face back into his pillow so she couldn’t see his face anymore. “Why?” he grumbled.

“Because your room smells like sweat and stale corn chips, and that isn’t healthy at all.”

He just huffed and she laughed, clearly not taking no for an answer, but he wasn’t even sure why he thought she would. If there was anything he could understand about her, it was that rejection wasn’t an option.

She urged him up and he followed, maybe too willingly, but he didn’t care. The past few days had just been so packed that he found it difficult to do more than just go with it. From seeing her in the blue night by the bus stop, to the warm amber she radiated in the city, to the stern and unbending support she had offered the day before, lately it was just like everything just _was_ going. There was barely a moment to even stop and think it over, and he was sure that if he had that, he’d find a way to break everything irreparably.

Begrudgingly, he got dressed and let her tug him outside, grumbling that fresh air wasn’t going to do him anything, he was still too sick to do anything, he was tired, he’d already sweat through the new shirt he’d put on. She just let what he was complaining about slide off, tugging him towards the lake as the air grew darker and darker around them.

On the dock, she pulled her boots off and sat down, her feet dangling over the edge for a moment before she squealed and pulled them back up.

“Way too cold right now,” she said, almost like she _hadn’t_ known that the lake wouldn’t be cold in October.

He sat down next to her and pulled a half smile, thinking about how the fresh air did feel nice after spending nearly two days sweating at home. “Did you forget what time of year it was?”

She snorted and fell back onto the dock, her inky dark eyes looking up at the sky like she was searching. “Sometimes you just gotta take risks, ya know?”

 _Take one right now, tell her how much you appreciate her._ “I can’t remember the last time I took a risk.” Lying down next to her, he sighed and stared up at the sky, wondering what she had been looking for.

“Well, you’re quitting drinking for one thing.” A bit of an awkward silence hung in the air and she cleared her throat, voice a little quieter than it had been, but not by much. “Aren’t you?”

He cleared his throat, electing not to turn and look at her. “Yeah.”

“Good,” she said shortly, scooting a little closer to him. Their bodies were touching now, her side pressed along his own. It was one long, warm point of contact and the comfort in the simple stance eased him into relaxing for the first time in almost a week.

It was nice, serene, so _casual_ . A familiar ache in his gut bubbled up next to the desire for a drink, that same longing he’d felt as seeing Val and Jas together. It was weird to have right now, especially after he’d been feeling. As few emotions as he actually _felt_ , it had all been a roller coaster; being tossed between what felt like sickening and unplaceable attraction to complete disgust with himself for wanting anything that could even conceivably lead to happiness, it was odd to get that feeling of want again. Almost like he was unable to just _allow_ himself to experience happiness from time to time, he tore himself up inside just thinking about how any of this got started.

“So, why’d you keep trying?” he blurted, thoughts just pushing it out before he even had the chance to think of what to really say.

She stirred a little, yawning. “What’re you talking about?”

He swallowed thickly, face burning in embarrassment for even asking. “You kept pushing and trying to talk to me for, like, months. I’m pretty sure you gave me enough food to cover my budget for a year.”

“I dunno,” she said and he felt her shrug, laughing a little. “You were a real asshole.”

 _You still are, why’d you even ask her? She’s just right._ “Do you still feel that way?”

He could feel her eyes on him, stare much closer than he figured it would be. Turning to look, his nose nearly brushed her own. “I care for you, Shane.” She shimmied a bit closer and turned on her side, gently placed her hand on his chest. It seemed like there was more she wanted to say but kept it in, her eyes closing with a small sigh.

Swallowing thickly and looking back up at the sky, he tried to ignore what was left in that silence. He could feel every point of contact between them with almost painful clarity. Her body against his side was a hot contrast to the chilly air, her hair was loose and tickled his neck a bit, and her  The hand she had on his chest moved a bit, her fingertips warm through his thin shirt. Without meaning to, he let out a heavy sigh at the simple touch, not realizing until this moment how long he’d been waiting for this kind of intimacy with another person.

Her hand stilled, but she didn’t say anything. Almost like she could read his mind, he felt her shift so she was on her back and her hand was gone. But her other one searched along his side for his own, their fingers lacing together once she’d gotten a hold. It was a… nice feeling. As simple as it was to think, it was just nice.

In the cool quiet night, he felt peaceful. His guts itched for a drink but his fever had mostly subsided, leaving just the ghost of the sweats behind. It wasn’t unpleasant to just lie out there, finding he could ignore his impulse to drink even for just a little bit if he had something else to distract himself with. And with Val lying alongside him on the dock, body one long, warm point of contact, she was an okay distraction.

The chittering bugs were interrupted when Val cleared her throat. “Shane?” she asked, voice raspier than normal. He felt her shift so she was on her side again but still pressed against him.

“Yeah?” he asked back, opening his eyes and seeing the stars scattered in an inky-blue sky.

“Could you help me clear a plot for a barn this week?” She cleared her throat again and yawned, the heat seeping into the shoulder of his sweater. “If you feel up to it.”

He blinked up at the sky, distinctly aware of the way she was still holding his hand, of how unexpectedly soft she felt. In more ways than one.

“Yeah,” he said after a moment. Hesitantly, he squeezed her hand lightly and she responded with her own, the reassurance that this was alright helping to loosen him up. “I think I can manage that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god just take it. im exhausted right now


End file.
